The Witnesses
by semul-sh-archives
Summary: Ichabod Crane and Abbie Mills were destined to become witnesses. Together they redefined their fated roles. After an abrupt break and time apart, can they redefine their bond as partners? What unexpected fate await the good captain and lieutenant? (Post Season 2 - Filler fic) [originally published: 12-30-16]
1. Chapter 1

"So you wouldn't just shave it all off?"

"No. And what is your obsession with my hairstyle as of late? This is the third time this month you've inquired as to its upkeep."

Abbie held up her hands in surrender. "No obsession. I'm just saying it's gotten longer since you've been here and a little trim now and then wouldn't hurt. You know, cut off the split ends, get some layers, maybe add some blonde streaks…," she teased, glancing at her partner out of the corner of her eye. She shined her flashlight along the rocky walls of Crane's former burial site.

They were scouring the cave to look for clues Martha Washington had left behind. Apparently, Mrs. Washington had buried some of her believed-to-be-destroyed letters along with Crane's magically preserved body. At least that's what one of the hidden clues alluded to in one of the many texts Jenny had brought back from her resource acquiring travels. Hopefully, the former first lady's letters could give them an idea of what to do next.

It had been well over a month since Katrina and Henry/Jeremy had died. Also a month since there was any sign of evil purgatory monsters on the loose. Even their "headless" pal was nowhere to be found. Although it was concerning, it was undoubtedly something to be grateful for because Abbie had definitely not been looking forward to explaining to the horseman of death how his former flame was accidently stabbed and disintegrated into dust.

It only took Crane a few days to get back in action after the incident. A bit too soon in Abbie's opinion but who was she to say anything? Her family related copings skills were certainly nothing to brag about. She was just glad he was talking, even if he was grouchier than usual.

Crane's dirt covered top half popped up from his former grave. He rolled his eyes. "What is your generation's obsession with altering your selves with your hair dye and tanning salons and plastic surgery? Please explain to me the appeal in filling your bodies with harmful chemicals to achieve an unnatural appearance. What is so wrong about accepting your natural forms?"

"Well, some people feel the need to express themselves or feel desirable. Doing those things makes them feel good. And you should know. You and your boys wore powdered wigs and sexy knee-high socks."

"They were hosiery, not 'sexy knee-high socks'. And wigs, as you well know by now, were a symbol of status." Crane huffed and slowly stopped digging. He rested his arm on the shovel and looked off into the distance. "Beauty is no quality in things themselves. It exists merely in the mind which contemplates them; and each mind perceives a different beauty," he recited, smiling with a dramatic flourish of his hand.

Abbie turned to him and raised her brows expectantly. Crane glanced at her, sighed, and began shoveling again.

"It is from Hume's _Essays, Moral, Political, and Literary_. He indicates that the perception of beauty is subjective. What I think is beautiful may or may not be something you think is beautiful or vice versa," he grunted as he shoveled another pile of dirt from the hole.

"Ah, beauty is in the eye of the beholder," said Abbie, nodding knowingly.

"Mmm, yes," hummed Crane, standing still and glancing at her thoughtfully, flipping back tendrils of escaped hair from his face, "Well said, Lieutenant."

"It's a common saying. Then again most people just end up basing their opinions of beauty off of manipulated, unattainable standards fed to them through multiple forms of media anyway. People rarely recognize the true beauty in something."

"An insightful observation. I couldn't agree more."

"Yeah, well, I think your starting to rub off on me," admitted Abbie, shining her flashlight at the ceiling. She playfully added, "Pretty soon I'm going to start complaining about Ben Franklin and donut-hole taxes."

Crane half-heartedly smirked. Abbie caught his eye and smirked back. She could tell there was a sadness in her partner's eyes that wasn't there before. He'd put up a wall and refused to let anyone in since the incident. She, Jenny, and Irving had done their best to get something out of him without pushing too hard but to no avail. They offered ears to listen, shoulders to cry on, even an open tab at the bar but he had remained impassive. They had barely managed to get him to agree to a very private, extremely brief memorial gathering for his late wife and son.

He had requested a simple plaque to be placed behind the former St. Henry's Parish. Since there were no bodies to bury and the church had provided both Katrina and Jeremy with a connection to one another in life, it seemed like the most appropriate spot to memorialize them. The plaque read, _In memory of Katrina Crane, wife and mother; Jeremy Crane, son, may they rest in peace._ Jenny suggested adding a "beloved" or "dearly loved" in there but Crane simply said there was no need for pretense in death. Abbie was surprised by his callousness but didn't argue. It appeared that she had done some rubbing off of her own on him in regards to the whole closing up and avoiding feelings.

She couldn't imagine the pain he had to live with day in and day out. There were moments where it seemed like it was a chore for him to even breathe. If she were in his shoes, she'd be feeling an overwhelming sense regret and confusion. Then again, knowing Crane he probably felt that he deserved what his wife and son did to him, or worse, that it was all his fault.

Abbie wanted him to talk about it and start dealing with it. That was his way of coping with things; talking it out. He just wasn't quite ready to share that pain with her but she would be patient. She'd give him his space and time. It's what he did for her when Corbin died so she would be more than happy to return the favor.

However, in all honesty, when Corbin died she didn't get much time to grieve. She was too freaked out to stop and feel anything with everything going on. Wrapping her mind around monsters being real, Andy dying and zombie-ing out and then dying again, her sister coming back into her life, adjusting to the whole Witness with a capital W thing, trying to get an 18th century man to adjust to modern life, on top of attending to her regular job duties left her very little time to herself.

So instead of going through all the healthy stages of grieving, she coped with his death by clinging to everything he left behind. The archives and the cabin helped her feel his presence and slowly come to terms with his absence. Of course, she wasn't sure if she had grieved Corbin long enough to fully accept his death. She just hoped Crane would eventually find the closure she was still trying to find.

They continued their work in silence. Abbie occasionally stopping to crouch down and squint at the cave wall. After a few minutes, Abbie huffed impatiently, slapping her thighs to brush the dirt off her jeans. "So you think finding these letters will help us answer some questions?" she asked.

Crane had taken a break and was taking a swig from his reusable water bottle. He replied contemplatively, "Well, seeing as Lady Washington was vital in helping General Washington achieve much of his success, she certainly must have had vital information that could be pertinent to our mission."

Abbie nodded. "So you knew her? You get to meet her in person?" she asked, genuinely interested.

"Of course. Lady Washington lived at the camp with the general during the war and involved herself in the welfare of the troops and management of the encampment."

Abbie was impressed. And here she thought that the only women who got close to the action were the nurses. Crane smiled, wistfully remembering his general's wife.

"She was such a lively woman. About as tall as you and just as strong-willed. She was charming, warm, and a wonderful hostess. When she wasn't entertaining, she was quite the avid reader and active letter writer. She forged several personal, political, and business connections through her letters which were quite beneficial in the acquisition of allies and resources," he said proudly.

"Hmm, you don't really hear much about her in the history books. But then again you don't really hear much about any woman's contribution in building this nation, in general. Well, except for Betsy Ross and her sewing skills."

"Which is quite unfortunate as many women made enormous contributions to the war and had quite the tale to tell. Even Ms. Ross' tale was full of intrigue, once you overlooked her overzealous disposition toward me."

Abbie rolled her eyes. If there was one thing that didn't change, it was men's ability to misconstrue a vibe from a woman into the whole "oh she wants me" vibe. Crane was no exception to the rule. However, it probably wouldn't be very sensitive of her to bring up misunderstandings between Crane and the women in his past life. Perhaps somewhere down the road she'd have to take some time to set some things straight but not anytime soon. Abbie subtly steered the conversation around it.

"So I guess one day, when you and I go down in history, you'll have entire books written about you whereas, if I'm lucky, I'll be a footnote in a high school textbook," she pointed out, running her hand down the cave wall.

"Never, Lieutenant. I would not stand for it. Our roles are equivalently important and must therefore be inaccurately recounted in equal parts," he said adamantly, slyly side-glancing at his partner.

Abbie shook her head and smiled. In the end, it didn't really matter to her. If they both died, the world would have so much more to worry about than their history being impartially told. Abbie shrugged off a chill crawl up her back. Contemplating their fate and death was enough to unnerve her completely. Of course she understood mortality and was well aware of the risks involved in her job as a police officer but it was different from what had been foretold about her and Crane.

Now that she knew that an afterlife existed, well purgatory at least, the possibility of their fate coming true was near certain. But being the realist that she was, it seemed more likely that if there was one witness who would not make it to the very end it was her. Chalk it up to the luck, or rather the lack thereof, she had experienced throughout her life, it didn't make sense for her to survive the full seven years that had been prophesied.

Besides, Crane was the one that had been somewhat trained and preserved for centuries just to fulfill their mission. She was just a troubled kid who passed out in a forest and was now throwing blind, albeit skilled, punches in the dark. Sure, it was convenient that she had a proper grasp of the modern and had enough resources to keep their mission going and under wraps but, in the end, she understood she was dispensable. Once Crane assimilated to this time, she would become expendable.

To be honest, it wasn't that part that bothered her since she fully understood that life moved on regardless of who died or who left or what anybody did. What bothered her is knowing that she had such little time left to achieve everything she wanted to accomplish. It filled her with panic and she felt an overwhelming feeling of anxiousness to get it all done as soon as possible. It was like having an unfair death sentence hanging over her head all the time. She avoided thinking about it. It was easier to focus on making sure that her fated partner stayed alive and well. He was her welcome distraction.

She closed her eyes and cleared her thoughts. Now was definitely not the time to start having an existential crisis. She had a job to do and it deserved all her focus. She opened her eyes and trained her eyes on the cave wall in front of her. Suddenly, she spotted a faint, distinct pattern on the lower part of the wall. "Crane, over here," she called out, squatting down to get a better look at the symbol. He scrambled out of the hole and crouched down next to her, brushing dirt off of the pattern.

"It is identical to the symbol in the text," he murmured, caressing the marking. After a few moments, he eagerly looked at her with the contained excitement of a trained puppy.

Abbie gave him a knowing look. She loved seeing him light up but knew better than to get their hopes up so she just calmly nodded. She stood up and rolled up her sleeves, sighing, "Alright. Grab the shovels. Let's see what the charming Lady Washington left for us."


	2. Chapter 2

Ichabod did not want to be here.

Specifically, he did not want to be surrounded by a crowd at the pub and feign interest in making civil conversation. He would rather be searching for Washington's lost treasure mentioned in the late Lady Washington's letters. However, it was Captain Irving's farewell celebration. He couldn't refuse to attend due of his despondency.

The good captain was leaving Sleepy Hollow to pursue safer employment for the sake of his family. He was going to sorely miss the captain. He had been willing to support the lieutenant and him in every way he could when no one else would. He had most generously offered him his friendship during his time of need after the death of Katrina. He had saved their lives countless times and all without the need to be recognized for his sacrifices. He was a selfless, irreplaceable captain.

It was unfortunate to lose another ally but Crane understood the importance of ensuring the safety of one's family. Not that he had one to speak of anymore. He glared at the shine of the wooden bar in front of him, bitterly drinking from his fifth glass of the night.

His wife and son's death haunted him on a daily basis. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the bullet rip through his son or the knife plunge into his wife by his own hand. He could still hear the contempt in Henry's voice and the venomous resent in Katrina's. Her words rang louder than any cannon, stung harsher than any blow to the chest. It nearly tore him to pieces to remember each and every utterance she hurled at him before nearly killing Abbie. Before struggling over the knife that ended her life.

Of course, he still had the Mills sisters. They did their best to keep him preoccupied with research, hockey, motion pictures, and a variety of other meaningless distractions. They didn't pry. They didn't demand he share his feelings. The most they had ever done to broach the topic was to ask if he wanted a public memorial service in honor of his family. He refused, of course, and requested a private gathering instead.

Nonetheless, there was nothing the Mills sisters could do to end the aching in his soul. He ached for his wife, for the son he didn't get to raise, for the life that was stolen from him. Resentment toward all the personal losses he had endured in the past few months were starting to rear their ugly head. He downed his glass of rum, set it down hard on the bar, and requested another. Luckily, the drinks were free tonight. He could keep the ugly head at bay, for now.

"Hi, I'll have a ginger ale. Thanks," said a voice next to him.

Ichabod languidly turned his head to see who had taken the seat next to his. He instantly rolled his eyes to the side and turned away.

"Nice to see you, too, Mr. Crane," said Sherriff Reyes, folding her hands primly on the bar.

"Sherriff," he said, clearing his throat, "Good evening." He tightly smiled. Another glass was set down before him.

Sherriff Reyes raised her brows. "Taking advantage of the free drinks, I see," her eyes signaling to his drink.

He raised his glass and sipped it, just to demonstrate some self-control in front of Ms. Mills' superior. His intention may be to drink his pain away but he didn't want to risk his partner's standing with her in the process.

Sheriff Reyes was not Crane's greatest supporter. She distrusted him from the very beginning and resented his presence in her department. However, the Lieutenant had no problem in declaring to her that his assistance was vital and that she considered him to be her partner.

Nonetheless, it did not appease the sheriff and she was continually reluctant to recognize any contribution he made to any case. In anything that concerned Crane, she was unyielding and unforgiving. Being the gentleman he was, Ichabod did not return the sentiment as he had nothing to justify it although he did have a thorough distaste for her in general.

"Your presence is unexpected, sheriff," he bit out, immediately realizing his blunder. He scrunched his eyes. "I mean, we…I assumed you would be patrolling the town tonight…not that you are not welcome because you are more than welcome to…"

Sheriff Reyes held up her hand to silence him. She set down her drink before facing him again. "Its fine, Mr. Crane. I know Captain Irving and I have had our disagreements in the past but, in the end, I respect and care about him as I would any other member of the Sleepy Hollow Police Department."

"Of course," he agreed solemnly, his fingertips tapping the sides of his glass.

Sherriff Reyes eyed him warily. Ichabod glanced at her before taking a hesitant sip of his glass.

"You know, Mr. Crane, in certain ways I would even consider you as part of our department."

"Oh. Why, thank you, sheriff," he replied unsurely.

"Though, in many ways you are _not_ part of this department. As in, I don't consider you to be my _employee_."

"Well, then you may consider my services voluntary," declared Crane contemptuously, raising his glass before taking another swig. The alcohol was beginning to lower his inhibitions. It suddenly dawned on him that this may not be the most ideal of settings for him to be drowning his sorrows.

Sheriff Reyes smiled tightly. She continued, "I would consider them voluntary, however, it appears that I have been compensating you unknowingly. You appear to be exhausting my _resources_."

Ichabod frowned. Did the sheriff just accuse him pilfering resources? This was completely undeserved and unfounded. The good lieutenant and he had never abused their access to the archives or to the department. They never required the help or attention of any of the other officers on their personal missions, therefore, did not waste the police force's time. Her accusation was most untrue. The sheriff's mistaken belief needed to be immediately thwarted, at least for the lieutenant's sake.

He calmly explained, "I assure you, madam, Lieutenant Mills and myself use the archives solely for research purposes during her free time and have not in any knowingly way abused the power she holds within the department for any personal gain."

"I wasn't talking about archives or abuse of power. I'm talking about Lieutenant Mills herself."

He knit his brow. He felt riled up and a bit confused, to say the least. The alcohol was certainly not helping as he tried to process the baffling claim. How could this possibly be about Lieutenant Mills being used as compensation? What sort of sheriff would allow her police force to be used as any form of recompense? He raised a finger indignantly and proceeded to unattractively gape at her, his mouth still attempting to form coherent words. She interrupted him swiftly.

"Do you know how many times Ms. Mills has called in sick this year? Did you know she used up years of accumulated personal days in just the past few months? She comes in to work late. She leaves early. She's constantly tired…" Sheriff Reyes paused, eyeing Crane critically. Her suspicious look shut his mouth instantly. He was slowly starting to perceive a suggestive tone to the sheriff's claims. His eyes widened indignantly as he straightened his posture.

She continued, a frown working itself around her mouth and eyes. "I am aware that she has been taking on several other illicit assignments on the side with your involvement. The only reasons that have kept me from reporting her to my superiors is that the quality she puts into her work is consistent and because the knack she has for catching criminals based on her 'gut feelings' is remarkable."

This conversation was leaving him in knots. He squeezed his eyes shut, in order to keep focus. He stammered, "I-I-I fail to see how this pertains to my receiving of compensation or, as you put it, my exhausting of your resources."

"Lieutenant Abigail Mills is a vital asset to our department. She _is_ an essential resource. And you, Mr. Crane, are draining her."

Crane blinked at her.

Sherriff Reyes huffed impatiently, "You know she was headed to Quantico before you showed up, right? She would have made an impressive federal agent. Expert in her field, no doubt." She gave him an accusatory stare, folding her arms defensively. He knit his brow and swallowed nervously.

"But she held herself back. And for what? An adrenaline rush from chasing whatever it is you've got her involved in? Or did she hold herself back just for you? A dashing, supposed history professor on sabbatical from Oxford? Don't get me wrong, you may have your attractive qualities but you're married, are you not, Mr. Crane?"

Feeling quite appalled and caught off guard by her allegations, he could only soundlessly gasp.

"So explain to me, how does the over-qualified, talented Ms. Mills benefit in any shape or form from sacrificing her success, her time, basically her entire person for you? Sure, you might be enough to keep her satisfied for now but what about her future, hmm? Or do you just see her as some bimbo you can string along until your wife finds out or until you get bored and find another willing distraction?"

That was it. This sheriff had crossed the line. He would not stand to have the Lieutenant's reputation sullied by somebody's inappropriate interest in her personal relationships. Abbie was his partner. They shared a holy bond. To debase such a powerful connection to such a depraved level would not be permitted. Ichabod grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes. He clenched his fists to control his rage, his arms shaking from the effort. He set his fist down heavily on the bar.

He spat out, as evenly as he could manage, "I assure you, Sheriff Reyes, that the relationship between Ms. Mills and I is far more profound and complex than the perversion you've so inaptly presumed."

"Really? Profound? Huh, then why are you holding her back?"

Ignoring the question momentarily, he drank back the rest of the amber liquid. It no longer burned going down yet he felt as if he were on fire. He was enraged. In a different time, he would have challenged such a slanderous fool to a dual. However, he was not in his time and the sheriff was not some fool. She was an ordinary person with simple thoughts. She had no reason to believe that she was indeed mistaken. Inclusively, she was also Ms. Mills' superior.

As disturbing her comments were, he needed to find reason. He couldn't very well divulge to the sheriff that he and Ms. Mills shared a sacred bond as Witnesses and worked together to save the world from a horrific apocalypse. He couldn't demand that she be grateful instead of disparaging of their partnership. So, instead, he requested another rum, this time without ice. He downed it in one ferocious gulp. Reyes glared at him waiting for an answer.

"I am unsure as to what has prompted this confrontation, sheriff, but may I be so bold as to remind you that Ms. Mills is a full-grown woman. As such, she makes her own choices and I hold no power over her decisions," he quietly declared, simply paraphrasing the words the Mills sisters had repeated to him in the past. They were always more than happy to remind him of the fact that women were just as capable of men and that the antiquated mindset toward women of the 18th century was not acceptable in any shape or form, a modern idea that he quickly came to terms with. He ordered another drink and slumped in his chair.

Reyes looked at the defeated man slouched in front of his newly refilled drink. She guiltily looked away, sipping at her ginger ale. After a few moments of self-examination, she resignedly sighed. "I apologize for the outburst, Crane. You can't blame me for looking out for my own. She is the best on the force but she deserves so much more than what Sleepy Hollow can offer. Believe me, I've seen too many young women lose their way due to unworthy distractions. But you've got a point. Ms. Mills makes her own decisions. She needs to decide what's best for her, not anybody else."

He sagely nodded before taking a swig from his glass. After unsteadily putting his glass down, he began to the effects of the alcohol blur his vision. He gripped the bar. The room began to rock back and forth.

"Oh, the sea is treacherous tonight," he mumbled incoherently.

Reyes placed her hand on his shoulder. She warned, "I think you've had enough."

Crane sloppily shrugged her hand off his shoulder and rubbed his eye. "I feel fine, sheriff, thank you," he managed only slightly slurring, messily tucking his hair behind his ear. He reached for his glass again.

Sheriff Reyes leaned in close to him, startling him with her close presence. "I don't think you want Abbie to see you this way," she advised him.

Crane hesitantly held his glass up to his chin. A thought of shame momentarily filtered through his haze. It disappeared just as quickly. He downed the glass in one gulp. He set the glass down hard, squeezing his eyes tightly and letting out a growl.

"Okay, time to get you home," said the sheriff, taking the glass from his hands and setting it as far away from his grasp as possible.

Crane snorted. Home was down the road, two and a half centuries ago. He doubted very much that anyone could get him back home. "Good luck with that, sheriff," he hiccupped. Sherriff Reyes glowered at him disapprovingly. She called over an officer and asked him to find Abbie or Jenny.

* * *

Jenny saw him first. Crane's sleeping head rested on his folded arms on top of the bar, his ass hanging off the edge of his seat. She made her way swiftly toward him, a determined look upon her face. She couldn't believe it when they told her he was completely wasted.

Of all the places and all the times, he chose to get smashed at Irving's party in front of all her sister's coworkers. Abbie was going to be livid. In fact, she herself felt livid. She, Abbie, and Irving had repeatedly offered him opportunities to help him cope with the crap he went through and of course he chooses this moment to get drunk on his ass in front of Abbie's boss.

Leave it to Crane to inconvenience the whole world to accommodate his needs. If she didn't like him so much and feel a strange duty to look out for him, she'd have made Abbie kick his pathetic ass to the curb a long time ago. But when she spotted Reyes standing next to him, she slowed down and pasted a fake smile on her face.

There was no way in hell she was going to let Reyes start poking around in their apocalypse business, let alone all the weird and depressing issues Crane was working through. She was going to have to charm her way out of this situation if they all wanted to avoid getting locked up in individual, padded cells at Terrytown Psychiatric.

"Sheriff Reyes, good to see you. Oh God, I am so sorry about this," Jenny said apologetically. She sympathetically shook her head at the still lump that was Crane. She took a peek at Reyes to see if she was buying it. The puzzled sheriff was focused on Crane as he let out a gruff snore.

Jenny rolled her eyes at him and tightly smiled, "Bad choice to bring him out here tonight. Definitely too soon."

Reyes narrowed her eyes at Jenny. "What do you mean 'too soon'?"

Jenny knew she had to play the only card she could at the moment if she wanted to avoid having Crane or Abbie incur the wrath of the sheriff. She sensitively explained, "Oh, um, it's just, you know, Crane he recently lost his wife and son. They, uh, passed away in, um, England a few weeks ago. Tragic, tragic accident. He hasn't been coping very well."

She glanced at the sheriff out of the corner of her eye and dramatically sighed, "I'm sorry, you had to see him like this."

Reyes' jaw dropped slightly. She composed herself before she stammered guiltily, "Oh, I…I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Crane, he didn't say anything," she knit her brow uneasily at him.

Jenny grimaced. "Yeah, not coping well," she said with a lamenting shake of her head.

"Right, of course. I, uh, I'll just go and find Abbie," suggested Reyes, grateful for the clean getaway.

Moments later, Abbie walked up to them, pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. She gave Jenny an incredulous look. Jenny just shrugged, miming her disbelief too. It wasn't like she had volunteered to babysit Crane tonight. She did enough of that on her free time. She deserved a break every once in a while. Although, Jenny would have to rethink what she deserved the next time Crane got anywhere near a bar.

Abbie sighed heavily and closed her eyes. She pleaded with the ceiling for patience, then shook Crane awake. He sat up immediately, his hair in his face.

"Lieutenant!" Crane squinted his eyes, trying to orient himself. Once he recognized where he was at, he joyfully garbled, "Join me for a drink?"

"No, no more drinks for you. Come on, we're going home."

Crane groaned but assented. He stood up from the stool, gripping the bar tight. Abbie offered her support but he simply raised a finger and brow at her. Endeavoring to be dignified, Crane shook his hair out of his face, leaned forward to bow, and almost tripped over his own boots. Jenny fought back a snort.

"Alright, alright, prince charming, we're done," grunted Abbie, as they both caught him from making a very public face-plant. They put his arms around their shoulders and practically carried him out the building.

Once they managed to reach her sister's car and buckle in their tall, lanky giant, Jenny offered to ride home with them. Abbie refused and told her to give the Irvings their apologies, to let them know Crane got a little overenthusiastic with the free drinks. They both gazed at him through the car door window. He was passed out with his temple and cheek pressed up against it. He was gently snoring, fogging up the glass with his puffs of breath. Abbie closed her eyes and shook her head. Jenny smirked.

It really was amusing to see Abbie take care of the gangly Brit. In her craziest dreams, she never envisioned her sister immersed in the whole Witness partnership thing. When Corbin told her of what could possibly await Abbie, she merely scoffed at it. Abbie couldn't even manage to look out for her own sister let alone a complete stranger. Now, here she was utterly dedicated to the supernatural cause and driving her tall, dark, very drunk time-traveling British partner home.

To be completely honest, Jenny really wanted to go just to see how her sister was going to carry him out of the car and into the cabin. She envisioned a Luke Skywalker and drunk Yoda scenario. What she wouldn't do to get a video of that. But she understood her boundaries. The capital-w Witnesses definitely needed some time to talk, especially now that Crane had his inhibitions lowered.

Hopefully, they could work out their crap and get back into the flow of things. They'd both been avoiding it for weeks. If they didn't deal with it now, it would certainly come back to bite them in the ass, even more than the whole Angel Orion debacle eventually did. Abbie interrupted her train of thought and told her to let the Irvings know she would stop by tomorrow morning before work to send them off. Jenny reluctantly agreed. She bid her sister good luck and watched as they drove away.

If Jenny believed in a God, she would've prayed that everything worked out for the best between them, mostly for her own benefit. She couldn't stand to be around them when they weren't on good terms. The tension was practically suffocating. She huffed and wrapped her hands around her bare arms. The weather was getting cooler than usual. A new season was coming and she had forgotten her coat. She glanced down the road again before heading back to the party alone and hopeful.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you to all those who've warmly received this humble fan-fiction. Thank you to my wonderful first ever reviewers; ReadtoRelax, Ess Trailer, TTracee, and sleepyheadfan20. This is the first time I've ever shared my fanfic writing and your kind feedback is greatly appreciated. This is going to be a slow burn type of story, in case you haven't already noticed. :) After this chapter, I plan on one more that takes place before the time jump. Then, hopefully, we'll get to the anticipated summary I gave this story. Thank you very much for reading!_

* * *

Abbie was infuriated. Not necessarily at the bumbling, drunk string bean next to her but at the stupid lock she was contending with at the moment. All she wanted to do was get the damn door open, put Crane to bed, and go home.

It had been a long day. After dealing with stacks of paperwork she had been putting off for weeks, providing a department orientation to the new pair of rookies, contending with the impossible task of stretching out the budget without having to make any cutbacks, delegating assignments to unenthusiastic officers, and a few hours of patrolling filled with petty crimes, she just wanted to go home and sleep for the next ten months.

She had thought that going to Irving's celebration would have helped her mood but it managed to do the exact opposite. Not having Irving around anymore was going to make the whole witness mission thing that much more daunting. He'd saved their asses more times than she could count and his support was unparalleled. She was going to miss him. That's why it was almost unbearable to be there tonight. Yes, she loved the Irvings and it was heartbreaking to see them go but she would have preferred to be alone wallowing in self-pity instead of mingling at a depressing party.

A deep voice startled her thoughts.

"Ol' King Cole wassa murry ol' soul an' a murry ol' soul was… _burp_ …heeee! Annie call for 'is pipe an' he call for 'is bow an' he call for a fiddlers threeee! An' a fiddler…fine fiddle…faddle…twee…hmm…hmmm...," sang Crane in his deepest voice.

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Sometimes she didn't know where or how she found the patience to deal with him sometimes. His little scene tonight was going to be the talk of the station for days. Hopefully, Reyes would forget about it but knowing the sheriff, it would probably be addressed first thing tomorrow morning. She would probably have her write it up in an incident report and make a twenty minute presentation about it, complete with visuals, to the entire department.

For some reason Reyes had been making more of an effort to find busy work for her to complete. Abbie was finding it more and more difficult to find any justification for the extra workload. It almost felt like she had it out for her recently. Her choice to stay instead of going to Quantico was beginning to plague her thoughts on a daily basis.

Dealing with all of it, work and Witnessing, was starting to get to her. But it wasn't like she had a choice. Crane needed her. She had to stay and finish the mission with him. That needed to be her main focus every minute of every day. Well, perhaps not every minute, because for now, she just needed to focus on get her crooning, plastered partner into the cabin in one piece.

Although, it was certainly amusing to see him sway precariously near her hip and slur through a children's song. If she wasn't exhausted, she might have laughed at him but all she could manage to do was open the door and mumble, "I think I actually know that one."

Crane scoffed and rolled his eyes, using his whole head. He stumbled through the door, catching his balance with the back of the couch. He sputtered, "Ugh, of all the songs in my time, your generation remembers the nonsensical children's song about a mediocre king?"

She scrunched her face sympathetically and nodded. "Yeah, I know. Now sit."

He sighed dramatically, making his way into the living room. He paused in front of the unlit fire place before flopping onto the couch. He rested his head back and closed his eyes. Abbie shook her head and made her way into the kitchen. She was going need him to hydrate if he wanted to avoid a massive hangover.

"Lieutenant…," mumbled Crane.

She ignored him as she filled up a glass of water.

"Lieutenant…," he repeated.

She sighed, looking for the bottle of multivitamins she had stashed somewhere. She decided to check the bathroom hoping to find them in the cabinet.

"Lieutenant…" he called out louder.

Losing her patience, she leaned her head back and huffed. She literally couldn't even walk into the bathroom without him demanding her attention. If she ever wanted a pet or child, she would be well coached to deal with the separation anxiety involved. She called out, "What, Crane? What?"

"Lieutenant! I have a most imperative inquiry I must make!" he hollered as if she were two states away.

She ground her teeth. Pasting a fake smile on her face, she walked out the door and popped her head out from behind the wall. She chirped through a tight smile, "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

He raised his brow unsteadily. He tiredly shook his head and knit his brows in concentration. "What happened to Luke Morales?"

She blinked and her mouth slightly dropped open. "Really? That's your burning question?" she asked, unimpressed with his 'imperative inquiry'.

Crane wrinkled his nose. "He didn't like me. Needless to say, I reciprocated the sentiment," he added haughtily.

She rolled her eyes and mumbled, "Ugh, God. Are we really doing this?" She continued her search for the vitamins deciding to look in the fridge. Of course, there they were neatly placed in between a half empty jar of pickles and a can of fruit cocktail. She shook her head and took them out.

He continued contemplatively using his hands to emphasize his point. "Tis as if he vanished without a trace. Puff. Gone. No more Morales."

She unscrewed the lid from the vitamins and shook one of the pills out. She returned the bottle to the fridge. He was not going to let this go if she didn't respond. She slowly approached him and sighed. "He, uh, got another job offer upstate. And after the whole Ancitif incident with the Irvings, he had good reason to leave," she said disinterestedly, studying the pill in her hand.

He narrowed his eyes. "Hmm. And do you…do you miss him?"

She nodded nonchalantly. "Sure. Of course. He was a good detective and we all miss having him around."

"That is not what I asked, Lieutenant."

She gave him a reluctantly warm smile. Leave it to Crane to immediately detect her attempt at hiding something. He was getting too good at that. She closed her eyes and reluctantly admitted, "Fine. Yeah, I miss him. But it was for the best. It's like I've said before, we need to put our bond as Witnesses before everything else, including relationships. Especially, the romantic kind."

"And so you will deprive yourself of love?"

She rubbed the inside of her cheek with her tongue and nodded. He was going there. Again. It seemed like this topic came up more frequently from him than from her own sister. It was a tired subject of conversation. She didn't have the time or enough opportunity to dedicate any effort into reigniting her love life. And it would take a lot of effort than ever before to maintain a relationship without revealing the whole apocalypse, time-traveling partner, Witness part of her life.

Frankly, she didn't know if she had the energy to explain it to some stranger and hope he didn't turn tail and run. Her ego could only take so much rejection. She, of course, would never admit this to him. She could barely admit it to herself.

She sat down next to him on the couch. She looked down at the glass in her hand before looking up at him. She quietly explained, "Listen, I've got enough with this whole Witness thing and my job at the department. Then there's Jenny and you and whatever else comes up. Trust me, it's plenty for now." She handed him the glass and the pill. "Now, drink your water and take your vitamin."

He frowned. Brusquely taking the glass, he shoved the pill in his mouth. He took a sip from glass of water before suddenly sputtering out, "Oh cease with all your…mollycoddling. Tis stifling."

Abbie gave a small smile. "Good, now drink the rest of your water."

He downed the glass of water before handing her the empty glass. "Truthfully, I'm astonished you still have a maternal instinct," he muttered under his breath, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

She playfully scoffed as she walked into the kitchen and placed the glass in the sink. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you did kill my son."

She slowly set her hands down on the edge of the sink and slightly nodded her head. She knew it. She knew he would eventually throw it in her face. She just didn't think it would hurt so much to hear it come from his mouth. But it hurt because it was true. Even though she did it for all the right reasons, she killed his son. Of course, she had not taken any pleasure in the act.

Regardless of the number of times she had fired her weapon out of necessity, she was a human being with feelings and emotions who had taken another life. She lost nights of sleep and had awakened drenched in a cold sweat because it haunted her, even in dreams. She didn't need him to remind her about what she had done. She understood the enormity of it and she felt like shit. But in her experience, there was no use in trying to explain to or reason with a person that wasn't in their right mind.

She turned around slowly. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the sink. She sucked in her lips and nodded, taking a deep breath, she replied calmly, "M'kay. I'm gonna let that slide. But just this once."

He looked up at her and glared. If she didn't know better, she would have thought, based on the way he was looking at her, he really did hate her with every fiber of his being. For some reason, it brought to mind her first meeting with Corbin at the diner. She must have been throwing him the same ugly glare at the time. Somehow he had not taken it personally and found it in himself to give her a second chance. If Corbin could do that with a complete stranger, she could do it for her very drunk, miserable partner. She finished her sentence wearily, tilting her head tiredly, "And only because there's no use in arguing with a drunk."

"I am not drunk," he growled through clenched teeth, now scowling at the fireplace.

She raised her brows and pursed her lips. Crane looked over at her with an offended expression. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes tightly. He looked like he was about to burst.

"Enough!" he shouted, standing up abruptly, pointing at her accusingly. "Enough with your…self-righteous judgement! Yes, I am drunk! But I deserve one, just one, Goddamn moment to seek refuge my hellish torment without your judgement!" he roared.

She stood stunned by his reaction. Her heart beat violently as she widened her eyes and her mouth formed a perfect o. He had never spoken, no, yelled so rudely to her. Her immediate reaction was to throw it all right back, damn the consequences. She had enough dirt on him to make him regret his words and more. But he was opening up.

After keeping it in after all this time, this explosion of offensiveness shouldn't come as a surprise. Therefore she, as maturely as possible, closed her eyes and pushed off the sink. She carefully approached him, with her arms at her sides, her hand flexing. She immediately noticed the familiar twitch and wiped her hand on her hip agitatedly. She delicately chose her words and sensitively replied, "I get it. I do and I'm not judging you. But we all have our own pain we have to deal with. Not just you."

Crane dismissively regarded her and sneered, "What exactly do you know of pain, Lieutenant? You weren't ripped away from your family and thrown into a time not your own. You didn't marry the love of your life only to have them betray, resent, and renounce the love you felt was true. You didn't have to choose to end their lives by your own hand for the sake of a futile mission."

Abbie's nostrils flared. Obviously her personal sacrifices didn't count. Her mother's torment didn't count. Her lost childhood, her father abandoning them, being thrown into foster care, having her sister committed, growing up without even a sense of family, the violent death of her beloved mentor, and the possession of her friend were just minor incidents apparently.

Plus, she was the one that fired the shot that killed the seemingly sweet old man she had known as Henry Parish, the man who had once saved Crane from the clutches of death. That didn't seem to register on the list of what he thought counted as painful.

To add on to that pile of crap, the fact that she had literally been ripped from her time, thrown behind bars, and risked everything including the possibility of ever returning to her own time to stop his insane former wife from killing him off permanently. No, of course, none of that could compare to Crane's sacrifice.

He slightly staggered back a step trying to keep his balance, unaware of Abbie's growing fury. He bellowed, his voice slightly cracking, "You didn't have a child you didn't know existed choose to dedicate their very soul to destroying you for your involuntary absence. Then to have your fellow Witness slay them mercilessly. You don't know my pain!"

She agreed with that part. She didn't have a child involved, thankfully. She didn't understand that pain but she could certainly empathize. Restraining the anger that was threatening to escape in the form of immature insults, she irritably snapped at him, "You're right. I don't know. Your situation is unique. As is mine. As is everybody else's in this world. But you are not the only person to have ever existed who suffered a cruel fate. People go through it all the time but they survive. They keep on living."

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He seemed to be making an attempt to repress his need to continue spewing out his rage. She watched as his chest heaved. She felt just as out of breath but was prepared to continue the argument if he decided to resume pointing out her lack of understanding and experience. She folded her arms over her chest. Sure she knew how to take the high road but she had her limits.

After a moment, his shoulders slumped and his fingers began to twitch slightly. It looked like he was done picking a fight with her. Perhaps her logic got through to him or maybe the alcohol was doing its job. Either way, it was one of those moments in which she was grateful for her police training. If she hadn't learned to control her impulses in difficult situations, the rage inside of her would have definitely caused some significant damage to the both of them. He opened his eyes and blinked several times, avoiding her gaze. He unsurely sat back down on the edge of couch.

Abbie kept her arms crossed. She wanted to be pissed at him. She wanted to continue the shouting match until both their throats were raw. But, in the end, what would it solve? Did she really want them to say mean shit to each other and hold it over each other's heads till God knows when? No, she just wanted him to work out his issues. She wanted the inquisitive, determined, enthusiastic, and adorably petulant Ichabod back. She sighed and rolled her eyes, abandoning her defensive stance. She needed to back off this fight.

After a few quiet moments, Abbie knit her brow. She looked over at her partner. His elbows rested on his knees as he leaned his hanging head in his hands. He looked like the man who carried the whole world on his shoulders. She bit her lip. She needed to say something. If she left it like this, she know she'd regret it.

He needed to understand that she was on his side. She cared for him, a lot. Probably more than she ever did for anybody in her whole life, probably even more than Jenny or Corbin. She'd give her life for him. She almost did, several times. In fact, it was frightening to think back on what she had done and was willing to do for him. How had she grown so…attached to him?

She grew up reciting and believing the words her mother made them repeat over and over again as children: "eyes open, head up, trust no one". And that's the way it was for most of her life, until she met Corbin. But even then it took a while for him to earn her trust. With Crane, he practically had her trust overnight. She had never had such an unshakable faith for anything or anyone until he came around. Christ, how could she have let herself get so completely invested in this person who practically appeared out of nowhere?

He was her partner. Her responsibility. He depended on her. He was her second chance at not letting down a person who depended on her. The question was: did she see him as a man or just as a responsibility? Now without Katrina and his son he had nobody connecting him to the past. He was entirely alone and available. She could potentially see him now as a man but what kind of man?

Was she attracted to him? Was she or could she ever be in love with him? Was he or could he ever be in love with her? Did she see herself by his side for the rest of her counted days? Could he? What if they outlived the prophecy? There were just too many questions. Too many questions she just couldn't answer.

So she blew out her cheeks and stuffed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. She could open that can of worms later. Right now, she just wanted, no, needed her partner. She hesitantly began, "I-I really wish things would have turned out different. That you didn't have to suffer the loss of your wife, your child, hell, everything you ever knew. That wasn't fair. I get that. We were both dealt a shitty hand."

He nodded silently.

Abbie cautiously continued, "And…I'm sorry, Ichabod. I'm sorry for having to play a role in the cause of your pain. But we have to keep going. We can't wallow in self-pity. As much as we may feel like we'd like to lay down and die, we have to keep going. We are Witnesses, with a capital W. We are important to this world. You are important to this world. You, Ichabod Crane, are important to me."

A tear slid down his sharp cheekbones. Several more followed in its wake. He shook his head. He inhaled sharply, "I…I can't. The pain, Abbie, I just..."

Abbie gasped, her eyes filling with tears. She kneeled next to him on the couch, grabbed his lanky shoulders, and pulled him into a fierce embrace. He froze. She pulled him against her tighter. He grabbed a fistful of her leather jacket, shaking in pain, his head hesitantly rested on her shoulder. He let out a painful, low moan and laid his head near her heart. A few tears rolled down her cheeks as she hushed and rocked him in her arms. She could feel his heartbreak and, God, was it painful. Naturally, she didn't mind sharing it.

After a few minutes, Crane's grip loosened and his head rested heavily on her chest. She affectionately smoothed his hair back. She could count the number times she had ever held somebody so intimately on one hand. She very rarely ever showed her vulnerable side to anybody; it had always been a part of her that she guarded selfishly. Of course she was usually other people's rock but tough love went hand in hand with being the reliable one. This situation, however, called for a softer touch and she was more than happy to oblige. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent as she rested her lips on top of his head.

Crane slowly sat up. He lifted his head enough so she could have a full view of his face. She tenderly tucked a few strands of hair behind his ears and gently smiled at him. She brushed his damp cheekbones with her thumbs. His beard rubbed against her wrists as she held his face in her petite hands. Her brown eyes met his blue ones. Her heart leapt in her chest.

If this was any indication as to what she feeling about him, then it was becoming quite obvious that she definitely saw Crane as a full-blooded man, not just as a responsibility. His gaze darted down and landed on her lips, which slowly parted of their own accord. His mirrored the movement. She slowed her breath. He continued contemplating her lips before meeting her gaze through a hooded lids. Abbie's brain froze and her heart took the reins. Just as her lungs desperately needed air to breath, her lips urgently needed to feel the caress of his lips. Her eyelids flickered closed as she drew in close.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello there! Here is yet another chapter, the last of the pre-time jump era. I'm excited to see what happens next. Thank you once again for the reviews and for taking the time out to read through my jumble of words. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks again!_

* * *

Ichabod could not remember the last time he had been held with such tenderness. He never allowed it. Yet, the profound affection in her embrace poured into his aching soul. His head lay on her chest, the strong beat of her heart lulled his broken one. He felt her fingers caress his disheveled hair. Her soft lips gently held a kiss atop his head.

He needed to contemplate her gaze. He had not known Abbie capable of demonstrating such care and wanted to behold her rare expression. He lifted his head and felt her delicate fingers brush his hair off his cheeks, tucking it behind his ears. He closed his eyes, relishing her touch.

She had never touched him so delicately. She rubbed his wet cheeks, her wrists stroking his beard. A warm tingle spread throughout his body mixing with the warm buzz from the rum. It soothed the turmoil within him. His eyes snapped open. He held her loving, brown gaze.

He was uncertain as to what prompted him to glance down at her full lips but he nearly praised God for the sudden notion. They were as he imagined in close proximity; tempting as a delicious, rare fruit and supple as a flower petal. They slowly parted open. Crane's followed suit. She lowered her eyelids and her petite body leaned forward.

Time nearly stopped. He could feel a slight quiver in her touch. He held his breath as his eyelids lowered.

The instant his eyes were enveloped in darkness, a sudden chill came over him. Out of the darkness, a quiet voice whispered his inmost feelings. The taunting thoughts he had been repressing for weeks. It hissed, _you were wrong. You told her to have faith, aware of her greatest weakness. You led her to slaughter. Your partner. Your friend. After everything she has sacrificed for you. You have held her back. You, Ichabod Crane, are the source of her sorrow._

He inhaled sharply. He couldn't do it. He couldn't lose himself further. Rejoicing in her gentle caresses, her soothing sounds, her exquisite body would be heaven. He did not deserve heaven; she did not deserve a broken man.

He slowly pulled back and shifted away, her petite hands slipping from his face. "I can't," he murmured, looking down at his lap.

She opened her eyes. Her confused gaze searching his downcast eyes. It was evident that the arrow of his cruel rejection hit its intended mark. She nodded slowly and sharply inhaled as her disenchantment became clear. He cautiously studied her reaction from the corner of his eye. Flickers of shame, uncertainty, and acceptance crossed her expressive brown eyes.

The warm buzz of his emotional release mixed with alcohol he had consumed was slowly dissipating, leaving frigid temperance in its place. He felt wretched. He desperately wanted to apologize. He couldn't bear to see her rebuffed yet he couldn't remain in her presence. It was too tempting. It was too torturous.

"I-I must…rest," he mumbled, running a nervous hand through his hair before standing up from the couch. His legs were as unsteady as a newborn foal's yet he managed to step away from her. His hand twitched nervously at his sides. It took all his strength to abstain from taking her in his arms and selfishly luxuriate in her affection.

Slowly rubbing her hands on the top of her thighs, Abbie muttered, "Yeah, s'good idea." She peered up at him before uncertainly standing up. She gave him a tight smile and pointed at the door with her thumbs, "I should go."

She walked away and hastily grabbed her keys off the table. Crane looked at her longingly as she avoided his gaze. Regret drowned his insides. He wanted to call after her. The urge was so strong he nearly uttered her name aloud. Yet he managed to choke it back, although, not without a whimper escaping his throat. He disguised it by clearing his throat.

She paused in front the door, her still hand fixed above the door knob. He feared yet ached for her to misinterpret his noise. Without turning around, she murmured, "I'm…don't forget to drink more water. I-I'll stop by later. G'night, Crane." She quickly slipped out the door.

Incapable of moving, Crane stood staring at the closed door. His heart ached, pleading with him to run after her. He could perceive rejection and shame radiate from where she had stood. Or perhaps it was his own rejection and shame he could feel? He shook his head, trying to rid himself the blighted desire blooming in his soul.

Had he really been that close to destroying a friendship, a partnership, a bond over an impulsive yearning? Did his depravity know no bounds? He was responsible for the death of his son and wife yet here he was happily sauntering into a moment of debauchery with the one person who had unconditionally looked after him since bursting forth into this time.

He could not in good conscience initiate a deeper relationship with Abbie. It was frightening to see how easily, quickly, and mindlessly profound it could be. They could not afford to do it whilst in the middle of war and grieving for the loss of his family. He would not commit the same mistake twice. He felt far too guilty and had too much misguided anger at his powerlessness. In addition to the fact that he felt betrayed in the most intimate by the woman he had devoted his soul to love forever.

The almost nonexistent trust he currently possessed and could bestow upon her would be tainted and insincere. He had to learn to live again, to understand who he was and what place he held in the world. He needed to feel secure in his abilities as a man to provide her with everything she deserved. He admired her ability to be self-sufficient and generous beyond belief yet he needed to, as this generation put it, "pull his own weight". He and Abbie would need to be secure individuals, free of duty, and with a clear sense of purpose if they were to commit their love to one another.

He needed to place distance between themselves and the intensity of their feelings. Abbie was not about to leave, not after he had demonstrated his inability to embrace his independence over and over again. She would unquestionably not leave him after he had imposed upon her the idea that she could never leave Sleepy Hollow because their fates were entwined. He was frightened and alone when he had said it, not that much had changed since then. She, in turn, needed the opportunity to pursue the goals she had put on pause because of him. She needed to become the person she had always dreamt of becoming. He could no longer stand in her way. Therefore, the wisest decision was for him to leave.

With a shattered heart of sorrow and despair, he gathered his wits and began the laborious task of packing his few possessions.

* * *

Abbie took a deep breath as she sat in her car, staring at the cabin door. It had been a couple of days since, what she had begun to refer to as, the "couch incident". She had hoped that giving Crane some time and space would calm things down between them. They had been riding on an emotional high when the incident happened so they needed to have cool heads the next time they met. She hoped that 48 plus hours was enough.

She climbed out of her car with the brown bag of donut-holes she had bought on her way here. She hoped her peace-offering would break any residual tension. She could already imagine his childish smirk as he dug into his favorite treat. She smiled as she approached the door. She looked around the cabin, just in case he was working outside or hanging out by the lake. No sign of him. She stood in front of the door, contemplating walking in as per her usual routine but hesitated. Boundaries had been crossed. They had been close to altering their relationship. She couldn't just barge in without reestablishing said broken boundaries. They needed to find the solidarity they had developed as partners.

She hesitated before decidedly knocking on the door. She sighed nervously, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. God, when had she started feeling like a hormonal teenage girl at just the prospect of seeing him again? She tried to stop smiling but couldn't stop.

She waited patiently for a few moments before her smile began to falter. He usually responded to her within a few seconds anytime she needed him to respond; he knew better. She set down the bag and took her gun out of her holster. She used her spare key to open the door. She pushed open the door cautiously and peered inside. There were no signs of a struggle. Everything was in its place.

She stepped inside the cabin with her gun in position. She carefully walked around and looked inside all the rooms. There was no sign of Crane anywhere. She lowered her gun and walked into the bedroom. The usual trinkets he left on his dresser and nightstand weren't there except for his cell phone and charger neatly arranged in the corner, as if on purpose. She frowned. Something didn't feel right.

For some reason, her gut instinct was to look inside his drawers and closet. She swallowed back a growing lump in her throat. The dread building inside of her made her lightheaded. She shakily opened his top drawer. Nothing. It was empty. She slammed it closed and checked the others. All empty.

She breathed in unsteadily as she walked toward the closet. She closed her eyes and ripped the doors open. Empty. All of his things were gone. He had taken everything. No boots, no outdated shirts or pants, no old, musty coat. Her stomach dropped to the floor.

She immediately took out her phone. She dialed Jenny. The instant she answered, she asked if she had seen Crane. Jenny uncertainly said no and asked what was wrong. Abbie, feeling overwhelmed, just shook her head and asked her to let her know the instant she saw Crane. She hung up on her sister and continued to call the list of people she knew had some sort of interaction with Crane. Officers at the precinct, his reenactment friends, his historical society contacts, and basically anybody who would have seen Crane within the past two days. None of them knew anything about him.

Abbie was scared. She was scared for him. What if he was hurt? What if he had been kidnapped? Okay, sure, the possibility of that happening was slim to none. First of all, who in their right mind would kidnap a giant? Secondly, kidnap victims rarely packed for the occasion. So she was stuck contemplating one possibility: he left by his own free will. He had up and done the one thing that she dreaded most in the world. He abandoned her.

She began to shake. She sat down on the couch that had witnessed their almost moment of indiscretion. She suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe. She panicked. She could barely think straight. How could he have left? How could he? She hiccuped violently, her hand covered her mouth, muffling the sound.

Then her police training kicked in.

She took deep controlled breaths trying to stop herself from hyperventilating. She calmed down and rubbed her palms on the seat of the couch. He left. She couldn't believe it but he left. He left her without saying a word, without leaving anything behind. Nothing. No note. No text. No voicemail. Absolutely nothing.

She shook her head. No, he wouldn't, would he? God, how could he? She buried her face in her hands. She squeezed her eyes tight, refusing to let her tears fall. She lost the battle as her body racked with sobs. But just as quickly as the tears came, they stopped. She choked back her sobs as she roughly wiped the moisture from her face. She shook her head determinedly. No, she wasn't going to cry. Not again. She had done enough of that to last her a lifetime. She balled her hands into fists.

Fine. If this was what he wanted, if this was what he needed, then fine. She wouldn't, no, couldn't change that. If this was what he thought she deserved after everything they had gone through, after everything she had sacrificed, then fine. He wasn't the first to leave her, he wouldn't be the last. She hastily stood up. She shook out her hands and breathed in. She was done. She rushed out the door and slammed it behind her.

She was alone.

She looked out across the driveway, the trees, the lake. The serenity of it mocked her. The silence couldn't have been more irritating. She looked down at the abandoned grease-stained bag of donut-holes. She was tempted to leave it behind.

She crouched down and picked up wrinkled, brown bag. "At least one of us isn't being left behind today," she muttered, holding the bag close to her side as she self-assuredly walked to her car, refusing to look behind her. She strangely felt as if a weight had been taken off her shoulders. Or maybe it was just the way she wished she felt as her insides twisted and turned threatening to burst from her body. She climbed into her car and rested her hands on the steering wheel. She calmly reversed and drove off with the intention of never turning back again. Her life was ahead of her. Nothing was keeping her back. Nobody needed her.

As she drove back to town, she dialed a phone number she rarely ever called. After a few rings, the person on the other line picked up. She cleared her throat and cheerfully replied, "Hey, it's Abbie Mills from Sleepy Hollow. Yeah, I'm good, thanks. No, I just called...I was wondering, is Quantico taking any applications right now?"


	5. Chapter 5

_"Wait! Oh yes, wait a minute Mister Postman._

 _Wait! Wai-ai-ai-ait Mister Postman._

 _Please Mister Postman, look and see,_

 _Oh yeah, is there a letter in your bag for me?_

 _Please, please Mister Poh-oh-oh-ostman._

 _Why's it been a very long time, oh yeah, since I heard from this boyfriend of mine?"_

* * *

"God, please turn that off."

"Why? You have something against postmen now?"

Abbie glared at Jenny.

Jenny widened her eyes and put up her hands in surrender. She cautiously turned off the radio and peered over at her sister. Abbie was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, the veins in her hands looked like they were about to burst. Something was wrong. Jenny knew it the instant Abbie had called her and said she needed to see her. Even though she didn't say much, there was something in Abbie's voice that set the alarm bells ringing.

Ever since Abbie had made through her FBI training and the apocalyptic monsters took a break, she had become somebody Jenny had never known; Abbie was happy. She was optimistic. She didn't worry as much and seemed more at ease than ever before. She had reinvented herself. It was like that little rain cloud that had been following her sister her entire life was gone. They hung out more, they talked more, they shared more. Basically, they became sisters again. So when Abbie called an hour ago and told her she needed to see her, Jenny knew something serious had gone down. But she knew better than to push her sister's buttons so she sat back and waited patiently for her sister to start talking.

After a moment of silence, Abbie said flatly, "He's back."

"Who's back?"

"Crane."

Jenny nodded understandingly but cautiously eyed her sister. After Crane had disappeared, it had left Abbie distraught. Sure she had immediately gone to Quantico but for the first few weeks, she would frequently call Jenny asking if she had any information on him. Jenny, feeling guilty about having given him instructions on how to fake a passport a few days before he'd left, did her best to find out anything on him. She knew he had left the country but had no idea where he'd gone from there. So, of course, Abbie constantly worried about him.

And there was the "couch incident" that really complicated the whole thing. Abbie didn't tell Jenny about it until three months ago when they went to go trim up her new bob. In all honesty, it didn't surprise Jenny to know that they had almost made a move on each other. They had this friction and connection between them that could only eventually lead to one place. She just had hoped that she wasn't around when they finally exploded. When she told Abbie this, it was met with a disgusted look and hard smack on the shoulder. They'd laughed about it for the rest of the day.

But apparently, he was back. The humor of it all was sucked out and replaced with a healthy dose of reality. Jenny stared at her fuming sister. She could only assume that the reunion between two former Witnesses didn't go well, at all. She didn't want to set her sister off but her curiosity won over reason.

"So…how'd it go?"

Abbie shook her head and laughed sarcastically, "Ha! How'd it go? How'd it go? How do _you_ think it went?"

Jenny widened her eyes and shrugged her shoulder, "Obviously, not good?"

"Obviously!"

Jenny nodded waiting for her to continue explaining. Abbie's snappish responses were causing her to want to become defensive but she knew Abbie was just trying to handle all the anger bubbling up inside her. She looked over at her again. Abbie continued to seethe, her jawline flexing and her nostrils flaring. She hadn't seen her sister this pissed off since, well, since Katrina had been alive. She had been so angry when Katrina had let Headless go and Crane had just stood by letting her get away with doing whatever the hell she wanted like a spoiled brat, that she had even gone as far as finding a replacement Witness in Orion. Unfortunately, in the end, both Headless and the maniac angel got away. So Abbie staying this pissed off would not benefit anybody in the long run. She needed to talk it out.

Jenny warily asked, "So…where is he?"

Abbie snorted, "Probably being released from the federal prison he was at after he tried to sneak back into the country with a faked passport and contraband."

Jenny's mouth dropped open. "Wow, prison, huh?"

Abbie rolled her eyes and set her jaw before continuing on her rant. "Oh yeah. He apparently thought it was a good idea to mention my name to get him out of trouble. Freakin' genius!" she growled through clenched teeth.

Jenny shook her head. "Jesus, what an ass." Of course, Crane would start dropping names at the first sign of trouble. The man couldn't go a day without dropping names. The thought of him dropping forefather names in a federal detention center made her groan inwardly.

Abbie continued outraged. "They called me at work! At work, Jenny! I was in the middle of a goddamn meeting!"

Jenny just shook her head disapprovingly.

"Oh and…," Abbie shook her head and laughed incredulously, "Then he has the balls to start bitching and complaining about "incarceration" and about how "back in his day" and ooh…I wanted to strangle him, Jenny. Just…argh!"

"I can imagine."

"And oh, then he starts talking to me as if it wasn't a big deal that he disappeared for all these months! As if we were still partners for God's sake! Please! I just…I couldn't stand to be there any longer. I kept my cool. I pulled as many strings as I could and I left," Abbie said evenly, using her hand to describe her departure.

Jenny nodded. Her sister did the right thing. Even though she was mad as hell, she managed to find her humanity. "That's good, Abbs. I don't think I would have had as much self-control. I would've left him there to rot," she said bluntly.

Abbie sighed wearily, her fingers relaxing on the steering wheel, "Yeah, I don't know."

Jenny replied adamantly, "No, yeah, I would. I'd make sure he got the full prison experience, prison bitch and all."

Abbie snorted. She shook her head with a reluctant smile, "You would."

"Hell yeah, I would!"

Abbie rolled her eyes and chuckled, "I can't believe you sometimes."

"Hey, nobody messes around with my sister, Special Agent Ms. FBI Bad Ass."

"Oh, well, thanks."

Both sisters smiled as they continued driving around town. Jenny looked at her sister. Even when she was trying to calm down and not murder someone, she was radiant. She had this personality about her that put everyone at ease. She had this beauty in her that was breathtaking. She had this resilient spirit that carried everyone through hell and back. It had taken Jenny a couple of years but she loved her sister, completely and unconditionally. She never thought she could ever say that about her sister but she did and it filled her with pride.

She looked down and studied her hands, trying to distract herself. They'd come a long way. This little blip on Abbie's radar was nothing she couldn't overcome. She turned to her and asked, sincerely curious, "So what are you going to do now?"

Abbie let out a sigh. She licked her lips and said, "Now, I've got a job to do. They gave me another assignment here in Sleepy Hollow."

Jenny nodded. That was not unusual. They typically gave Abbie the Sleepy Hollow and surrounding area cases. Since Abbie still had her apartment here, it wasn't that big of a deal. Besides, she didn't seem to mind coming back to town to deal with federal cases. However, they hadn't returned to the archives since boxing and covering everything up. They both agreed there was no reason to go looking for trouble. But it appeared that the "no monsters era" was quickly coming to an end. If Crane was back, they were probably already here. Jenny asked casually, "Do you need me to go with?"

"Nah, it's just looking into some suspicious gang activity at a local restaurant. Not that big of a deal."

Jenny nodded. She'd leave her phone on anyway, just in case. They could both handle any monsters thrown their way but eventually, they'd have to deal with Witness number two. So Jenny carefully asked, "What are you going to do about Crane?"

Abbie nodded and glanced at her sister. She took a deep, calming breath. She smiled slightly. "It'll be fine. I just needed to vent," she decidedly said. After a contemplating look ahead, she continued, "To be honest, I'm actually kind of relieved that he's okay. Things will eventually work out between us, they always do."

Jenny raised her brow skeptically. If she was her, there would be no way in hell she'd ever work with such an inconsiderate ass like Crane again. She'd rather take on the end of days alone. "That's pretty generous of you, Abbs. Quick to forgive," she pointed out.

"But not to forget," emphasized Abbie, tilting her head and smiling. She confidently nodded her head and declared, "The way I see it, this is a challenge, Jenny. I claim to have 'reinvented' myself so I need to take this on differently. The old me would have stayed pissed at him and made him pay for all the crap he put me through and eventually it would've come back and bitten me in the ass later on. The new me, well, I need to come to terms with the fact that sooner or later I'm going to need him. We need to rebuild our friendship and not complicate it with damaged, misguided feelings this time. We need to rebuild our trust. Mostly for my sake. I like who I am now. I'm accomplished. I'm happy. I don't want to go backwards."

Jenny nodded impressed. "Spoken like a true therapist."

"Yeah well who knew a few months of required therapy would actually help me work through years of repressed shit," chirped Abbie teasingly.

Jenny shook her head and chuckled. "Well, there you go."

They continued aimlessly driving around town, taking advantage of the stoplights to start up new topics of conversation. After driving for a few minutes in silence, Abbie finally spoke up.

"He looks different."

"Yeah?"

"He got a haircut."

"What? No way!"

"Yup, man bun all gone."

"Oh my God, _all_ gone?"

"Well, it's still kind of longish. Come to think of it, it's a little shorter than mine, way shorter on the sides though."

"That's still pretty drastic."

They drove past their favorite burger joint. Abbie looked at Jenny, studying her out of the corner of her eye. She quickly changed the subject. "Yeah, anyway, you hungry?" she asked.

Jenny shook her head. "Nah, I just ate."

"Need a ride somewhere?" persisted Abbie.

Jenny scratched her cheek thoughtfully. "Nope."

"You working tonight?"

"No, day off actually," replied Jenny.

Finally, Abbie asked what Jenny had been expecting. "You want to hang out later? Your place?"

Jenny smiled knowingly. Her sister wasn't ever very good at asking to spend time together. It was probably her fear of being rejected. That's why she didn't hit on guys or make the first move, besides the couch thing with Crane. And that wasn't about to happen again any time soon. Jenny shrugged and replied, "Sure, Thai?"

"Sounds good," agreed Abbie.

They pulled up to Jenny's apartment and parked on the curb. Jenny opened the car door but paused before shutting the door slightly. She looked at her sister. If there was ever a time Abbie needed to know how much she was valued, now was that moment. She needed to hear the words that Jenny had been holding back for a while.

"Abbs?"

"Yeah?" asked Abbie, looking at her concernedly.

Jenny took a deep breath before stumbling through her declaration. "I don't want to get all touchy-feely on you or anything but I just have to say…you've come a long way. And…I admire that. I look up to you and what you're doing it's really…inspiring. You're a badass and I'm just really glad you're my sister."

Abbie's face lit up with her closed mouth smile. The corner of her eyes crinkled in happiness. She swallowed carefully and nodded. She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze. She shakily responded, "I'm really glad you're my sister, too." Abbie chuckled and softly added, "And I'm so damn proud of you, Jenny. All the time. Always will be."

Jenny nodded and breathed deeply. Damn tears prickled her eyes, threatening to fall. She sniffed them back forcefully and laughed. "God, sorry. Anyway…alright, I'll see you tonight," she said, tapping her knee before giving her sister's shoulder a squeeze and climbing out of the car.

Abbie called after her before she shut the door, "See you tonight."

* * *

Abbie watched as her sister walked into her apartment. She wiped away a couple of tears that had slipped out. She really was incredibly proud of Jenny. She had gone through hell and back. She was the strongest person she knew. The best part was that she got to call her sister. She was so thankful to have her in her life.

She drove off toward the restaurant. She turned on the radio and changed stations until she reached a station where Nina Simone's voice crooned through the speakers singing about pleading to not be misunderstood. She sat back satisfied. What she had told Jenny was true. She liked who she was now. She was proud of what she had accomplished. She had a career, not just a job. She had friends. She had family. She embraced her quirks and was learning to accept her flaws and strived to improve who she was on a daily basis. Crane coming back was not going to change that.

She knit her brow thinking back to the last time they saw each other. That was months ago. He was drunk and in mourning, she was stressed and feeling overwhelmed, and they'd almost kissed. It was easy to deny that it had happened but confronting mistakes in a healthy way couldn't be based on denial. She was attracted to him. After seeing him again today and giving herself time to get over her initial anger, it confirmed it.

He had looked incredibly attractive, even with his orange jump suit on. His new haircut suited him. She wanted to run her hands through it until he groaned in pleasure. His soft pink lips were still sinfully tempting. His thick beard was still begging to be stroked with her fingers and lips. His broad shoulders implored her arms to embrace them. She clearly was still attracted to him but that didn't mean that she was about to go kiss every man she ever felt an attraction towards, even if he was sitting three feet away.

In the end, she would have to confront him and her feelings toward him. But first she needed to set her hormones to the side and set her priorities straight.

Firstly, she needed to respect herself. She had already done that by capably handling the situation today. She really wanted to resort to physical violence but instead calmly confronted the situation and walked away when it became too overwhelming. She felt the urge to leave him to rot in his prison cell but found her compassion, a quality she absolutely admired about herself, and called in a few favors. She had never felt so incredibly angry but she was impressed with how she handled herself. Okay, sure she left him to his own devices from that point on but she was no saint. If he could fly across the world on his own, he sure as hell could find his own way to Sleepy Hollow or wherever he decided to go.

Secondly, she needed to make sure she reached out to the people who mattered most. In this case, Jenny. She needed to express her feelings and Jenny had been there to listen. They'd even made plans for a sister's night out, or, rather, a night in. They'd probably talk it out some more until Abbie was ready to move on or until they both got bored.

And thirdly, she needed to help repair her friendship with Crane. In all honesty, she didn't need to hear an explanation as to why he ran away. It wouldn't change what happened. Once upon a time, she would have thought that she deserved an explanation but living a life of entitlement was not going to make her happy. Besides, she needed to respect his space as he needed to respect hers. They were not bound to each other. They did not need to share every detail of their lives. He was not hers and she was not his. They did not owe each other anything. He was his own person as she was her own person.

Mutual respect would be her aim in repairing their friendship and partnership. The only problem was that she didn't trust him anymore. At least, not like she used to. He had not proven to himself or to her that he was trustworthy. It was going to be a long road back to get to feeling like trustworthy partners again. Luckily, Abbie was determined to make it work. She turned up the radio and sang along with Nina in her loudest voice, looking forward to the challenges ahead.

* * *

 _Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, followed, and read this story. Your support keeps me going!_

 _I hope you enjoyed this Abbie-centric chapter. There's so much to Abbie's personality that I'd love to explore. This one was focused on her ability to be resilient and to forgive and Jenny's perspective on those traits._

 _I know some of us would love to see Crane be punished for leaving but I'm not sure Abbie has ever been the punishing type. She was redeemed when no one else believed in her so I think she probably hopes to do the same, especially with those she feels are important in her life. But as the saying goes, it's easier said than done. So we'll see if Abbie can stick to her guns. Anyway, thanks again and enjoy the Season 3 premiere of Sleepy Hollow this week. I know I certainly will!_

 _Lots of love,_

 _semul_


	6. Chapter 6

_Apparently, the honeymoon's over,_ Abbie thought as she shook her head in amazement, dropping her luggage by the door with a thump.

The house was a mess.

Crane's muddy boots were haphazardly tossed a few feet from the door. His damp, musty coat was messily draped on the back of the couch. There were mud tracks all over the hardwood floors from the front door to the kitchen. Grease-stained takeout brown bags were mindlessly discarded on the living room floor and kitchen countertops. And to top it off, there he was sitting crossed-legged on the couch, her laptop resting on a pillow in his lap, empty bags of potato chips and bottles of various type of soda surrounded him.

Of course, he didn't know she had just arrived as he was sitting with his back towards the door and his ears were covered by a massive set of blaring headphones as his hands frantically flew over the keyboard, engrossed in playing an online game. A Pop-Tart hung out his mouth as his body jerkily twitched along with the movement of his hands.

Abbie stood frozen in shock, her mouth hanging open. She was only gone for a few days and he had somehow reverted back, or rather forward, to a modern-day teenager. She had left for a conference in D.C. and had come home a day early hoping to get a head start on some paperwork. It looked like that plan just flew out the window. _Speaking of windows, what the hell are those smears on the front windows?_ wondered Abbie, grimacing in disgust. She picked up a forgotten Styrofoam container by the door. She had so many questions but the real question was how did he manage to pay for all that take-out food with the fifty bucks she'd left him? She shook her head in disbelief.

It looked like she may have went into this whole roommate situation a bit precipitously. They had been living together for a few weeks now and it had started out okay enough. Once she had gotten over her initial anger of him up and leaving without a word and then coming back into their lives as if nothing had happened, she was left with the reality of Crane not having anywhere to go. Regardless of his thoughtlessness and selfishness, he was broke, unemployed, and homeless. Sure, she could've told him to figure it out himself but, in the end, she was all he had.

She would have moved him back into the cabin but Joey Corbin had returned and used it occasionally. Since it was technically Corbin's cabin, Crane had only two options: he could live with Jenny or live with Abbie. Since Jenny was in the process of establishing some sort of security, her living situation was a bit unreliable. Besides, Jenny had never been into the whole sharing, domestic situation. She liked being able to move around and not feel tied down. Abbie, on the other hand, had a house with a spare bedroom.

It took some convincing but Crane decided to "reside in her dwelling for a brief duration". She knew it made him uncomfortable to put her in a position where her "character" could be questioned. She told him that it was an outdated way of thinking. Her "character" would be fine. Men and women lived together all the time. It didn't mean they were together-together. Besides, it wasn't anybody's business if they were or weren't together. He seemed unconvinced but was grateful for her charity and agreed to the living situation nonetheless.

After her Marty McFly experience, Abbie had an intimate understanding of feeling alone and out place in an alarmingly different world. If it would have come to her being stuck in that time, Crane would have done what was in his power to look after her. It was only right for her to do the same. Opening up her home to him was only logical, even though it presented the challenge of living together platonically, mainly on her part. Regardless of everything he'd put her through, she still felt a strong connection to him. It wasn't love but it was significant enough for her to recognize as something enduring. The good thing was that after being rejected and abandoned by him, she was certain her feelings were of the unrequited variety. He certainly wasn't pining after her.

When he left without so much as a a thank you, ma'am, she was heartbroken. She felt hurt. Then her insecurities took over and she felt worthless and unwanted; feelings that she had not experienced since she was a kid. Then he never called or wrote. Suprisingly, this mere fact immediately cured her of her self-doubts. She was furious. How could he leave and decide to never talk to her again? After everything they had gone through? After all those sacrifices? Ungrateful bastard.

She didn't know if he was dead or alive for nine months. She would have gone crazy were it not for her disciplined time in training at Quantico. It was where she had met someone with whom she worked off a lot of her frustrations. That, paired with some intense visits with a shrink, her time at the FBI Academy turned out to be the cathartic experience she needed to reset and continue her life. She felt empowered. She firmly believed that if Crane ever returned, she would not lower herself to a vindictive level. She would show mercy. She would be the better person.

Achieving her dream career was the last push she needed to restore her faith and respect for herself. Ichabod Crane's love or lack of love did not define her. She was Grace Abigail Mills, Special Agent and Witness with a capital w. She was an important person. She was needed. She was essential to the future of this world.

Living with Crane would not confuse her purpose. In fact, his disinterest in her would keep things uncomplicated and platonic. Meanwhile, she could be as generous as she'd like without having to reveal her personal motives for helping him. But, at this very moment, seeing him in this repulsive state, her charitable side was having none of it.

Yes, living together was helping to repair their bond. Balancing work and their mission was easier having him conveniently there when she needed him. And, of course, it was nice having someone there at the end of the day to talk openly with about work and the monsters. Nevertheless, there were expectations that needed to be met. One of those was keeping the house livable, not reminiscent of the home of a junk food hoarder. Although imagining Crane on an episode of Hoarders adamantly defending his rights as a former captain of the Revolutionary War to stockpile empty take-out containers would be some top quality entertainment.

She rubbed the bottom of her front teeth with her tongue trying to work past her irritation. She wanted to yell and growl and yank Crane off the couch by his ears. How dare he turn her nice and tidy home into a teenage pigsty? Suddenly, Crane shouted out something resembling excited swearing as PopTart pieces sprayed all over her computer screen and his fingers pounded into the keyboard wildly. Abbie looked at him in disbelief.

That. Was. It.

Abbie was tired, hungry, and stressed out. Former Captain Ichabod Crane, Esquire of General George Washington's spy ring was not going to save himself from her fury this time.

"Crane!"

He didn't hear her as he continued shouting insults at the computer screen, "Take that, you babbling bastardly gullion! Thou hast been baptized by the hand of your capable master!"

"Crane!" snapped Abbie, wrenching the headphones from his head.

Ichabod sprang from the couch startled, frantically trying to keep the laptop from falling from his grip, pastry pieces and pillows flying every which way. He genuinely looked terrified. Abbie fought back a brief smirk and schooled her features to reflect her ire. She sucked in her cheeks and folded her arms.

"What the hell's all this?"

"Lieutenant! You…you returned early from your journey. I thought you were to return tomorrow evening," he replied unsurely, setting the computer and headphones down on the couch and tucking his hair behind his very red ears.

"The conference ended early. And don't change the subject. What the hell, Crane? I was gone for a five days…"

"Ah, yes. Eh, um, I have been…um, I've neglected my housekeeping duties. If you'll permit me to…," he mumbled uneasily as he crumbled up the empty bags of chips and scooped up the empty bottles form the couch.

"Seriously?"

He looked pathetic, blushing and twitching in front of her with his arms full of garbage, dressed in his yoga pants and a stained t-shirt. His hair was greasy and unkempt more than usual. He had pieces of Pop-Tart and God knows what else stuck in his beard. He smelled like he hadn't showered since she'd left.

At that very moment, it dawned on her that their living arrangements could help her in the "keeping it platonic" department; she was not in the slightest turned on by the mess that stood before her. The only thing she wanted to do with him was throw him into the shower and douse him in an industrial sized bottle of shampoo, clothes and all. Taking on the role of scolding parent was really putting a damper on her libido. Not to mention his rank odor was less than arousing. Yeah, no way in hell would she want any type of physical contact with him in his current state. She held her breath and took a step away from him. She resisted from pinching her nose and instead tilted her head to the side impatiently waiting for his explanation.

Crane gingerly placed the trash down on the couch, eyeing her anxiously. His hand flexed nervously as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. He opened his mouth and held up a finger, ready to provide the explanation that would redeem him from the trouble he was in. Abbie quirked her eyebrow. His mouth closed and his finger lowered immediately.

He looked lost as he deliberated what he was going to say to her. She resisted a smirk. This was just too much fun. She enjoyed watching him squirm. She swallowed down an evil cackle. She didn't mean to torture him but it really was too easy. He loved being right all the time so the few times that he was caught off guard, she thoroughly relished it. Finally, he closed his eyes in shame.

"My sincerest apologies, Lieutenant. Please forgive me for disrespecting your home and for abusing the trust you placed in me," he apologized wholeheartedly, hanging his head in remorse.

Abbie looked at him dispassionately. He really knew how to suck the fun out of teasing. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Frankly, she was too tired to deal with it. She looked up at him. He was so ashamed, he couldn't even look at her in the eyes. She smirked at him and sighed. God, he was cute, smelly, yes, but adorable nonetheless. She couldn't stay mad. Hell, she had her moments of pure, unadulterated laziness. He had yet to bear witness to those moments. Dealing with evil shit on a daily basis really took a lot out of a person. They were only human after all.

She was going to lecture him and help him clean up, but after his kicked puppy routine, she decided to skip the lecture. Between the two of them, they'd get things cleaned in no time. Although if she helped, he'd have to immediately take a bath and he'd owe her a home cooked dinner. A fair quid pro quo. Satisfied with the terms of her deal, she was about to offer her plan when he hastily reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of jellybeans.

"Jelly Belly?" he offered meekly, with a hopeful grin.

Abbie's smile fell. She looked at his outstretched hand and then at him. With a flat tone, she asked, "Where did you get those?"

"Oh, I discovered them in a plastic Ziploc sandwich bag in the back of the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard."

"Hmm," she responded impassively.

Crane continued excitedly describing the new treat he had discovered. "They are quite delicious. Each one has a different flavor. I particularly enjoy the green ones. Oh, and the ones that taste like fizzy soda, of course."

Abbie stared him down. His smile faltered. She just couldn't believe it. After taking all those efforts to hide them from him. All for nothing.

"You ate my jellybean stash?"

"Yes?" he replied questioningly.

She nodded overenthusiastically with her lips pursed. She gave him a tight smile. She breathed in sharply before lowering her voice and saying, "I can forgive a lot of things, Crane, but violating my jellybean stash is not one of them. You can clean this all up by yourself. I'm going to bed."

"Lieuten…?" he asked bewildered, as she picked up her suitcase from the foyer.

"Nope. Not talking to you right now," snapped Abbie, as she heaved her luggage to her room.

Crane followed her worriedly, trying to help her with her suitcase. She turned around and smacked his hands away from it. He pulled his hands away protectively to his body as she glared at him.

Abbie was a generous person. She had spent the past year working on herself and making great gains professionally and personally. Nevertheless, she had her moments of pettiness. They were extremely rare moments but they did exist. This happened to be one of them. Nobody messed with her jellybean stash. Not even her fellow, divinely ordained Witness. Her jellybeans were off limits. No amount of adorableness could excuse such a violation.

Crane continued following her. "What did I…?" he asked, as Abbie paused in front of her bedroom door.

She threw her luggage into the room and turned to him. She silently widened her eyes and held her pointer finger in his face, much like he did to interrupt or make a point. He looked at her small finger disconcertedly before looking at her eyes pleadingly. She took a step back into her room and slammed her bedroom door in his confused face.

* * *

Ichabod looked nervously down the hall at the Lieutenant's bedroom closed door. After she had stormed to her room, he had tried reasoning with her through the closed door. He had knocked and attempted to apologize but she had only responded with a fierce demand to leave her alone. He respected her request and decided to clean house. He discarded the empty containers of food and used cleaning wipes to "disinfect" the surfaces of the countertops and tables. He assumed "disinfected" surfaces meant clean surfaces. He then bathed and changed his clothes. He was currently awaiting a load of laundry to finish its cycles. He hoped it met her standards of cleanliness.

He felt ashamed. He wasn't sure exactly what had upset her but he understood it was a result of his slovenliness and appalling behavior. She had placed her trust in him and he had failed her. He had demonstrated a lack of work ethic and common decency. This was not the impression he wanted her to have of him in their renewed partnership. He was deeply humiliated by his actions. Since returning to Sleepy Hollow, Abbie had been nothing but generous to him.

He had assumed that she would have refused to see him when he had requested her presence at the federal detention center but she had graciously accepted. He felt an overwhelming amount of shame for what he had done to her before his abrupt departure. It was even more shameful for him to admit that he had shut her out of his life for months. He had acted cowardly. It was inexcusable.

Yet, when he first set his gaze upon her after depriving himself of her presence for nine months, he felt reborn. He detected the subtle and not so subtle changes in his lieutenant. She appeared more confident, refined, and serene. Her shorter hairstyle and formal business attire helped to firmly establish her assuredness. She had become an FBI agent during his absence. She was accomplished and content. She was more magnificent than ever.

He had believed that leaving and placing physical distance between them would provide clarity and diminish his uncertain feelings for her. However, after taking enough time to fully grieve Katrina and Henry, he was faced with solitude. For months, he became accustomed to his seclusion. It was then that destiny intervened and led him to her once more. She once again saved him from a life of perpetual wandering, evermore alone. To be precise, he discovered a tablet that foretold of their tale in his crypt. Attached to the tablet was an illustration, a near identical sketch of them. Their fates were once again entwined.

Upon hearing this declaration, she had laughed at him. It was not the response he had anticipated. However, after teaming up to defeat the newest threat to Sleepy Hollow, he was convinced that she could entertain the possibility of their decided fates. His hope grew when she offered to share her humble abode with him.

They could deepen their bond and he could bask in her radiance day and night. It was as if divine intervention had opened the path directly to her heart once more. He need only not "screw it up" this time around.

Though, she had provided an opportunity for him to earn her esteem once more, he had not yet revealed the entire tablet translation to her. In addition to its brief description of the legend of Sleepy Hollow, it had decreed that the two witnesses were of one soul and were preordained to eternal devotion to one another. Their fates had been decided: they were meant to be, purposely designed by their creator for one another. It filled him with a sense of purpose. However, it would most likely frighten her off if he shared this additional information with her. He did not want her to feel obligated to remain at his side out of duty rather than love.

Every day since he had returned, he lived in regret for having refused her affection when she had so openly offered it to him. Had he no honor, he would have used the Grand Grimoire to selfishly turn back time to relive that squandered moment. He would have held her close and delighted in the warmth of her embrace. He would have etched every inch of her glorious body to memory and worshipped her delicate curves with his lips. He would have caressed the most pleasurable moans from her delectable throat and devoted his attention to savoring her sweet and salty taste. He would have made her body quiver in bliss and would have held her tightly as she delighted in his fervid desire.

However, he could not return to his moment of carelessness. Instead, he would seize any opportunity to share her company. He would dedicate himself to restoring her trust in him. She had once placed her heart in his hands and he had callously slighted her. It was the reason behind her presently austerely friendly disposition toward him. She had not demonstrated a single hint of desire toward him. It appeared that she had overcome her feelings for him and God did he ever hate himself for it. His moment of indiscretion would be reconciled.

Perhaps one day he would earn her affections once more. If he were to be blessed with such a day, he vowed to never spurn such a precious gift. She would be his and he would be hers until the end of their days.

Nevertheless, his motivation had not been enough to avoid disillusioning her once more. He had yielded to his need to "unwind" one night that continued on for five days without a moment of respite. He had discovered that video games and sugary foods were addicting. He also discovered that the extent of Abbie's forgiveness did not include jellybean thievery. How could he have comported himself in such a juvenile manner? What woman would surrender her heart to such a negligent fool? He dreaded to think what opinion she must have of him.

Suddenly, Abbie's door creaked open. He stood at attention at the end of the hall, lit by the moonlight streaming through her bedroom window. She stood at its softly illuminated threshold, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Remaining stoic was a challenge as he gazed upon her nightwear.

She wore a silk kerchief over her hair and a gray cotton chemise and short trousers. The clothing she wore did very little to cover her body. The chemise had thin straps and was short in length enough to reveal her lower abdomen. Her "shorts", as she called them, hung low on her hips and covered just the tops of her glorious thighs. He admired the soft curves of her bare arms, her exposed middle, and her smooth legs. Her face appeared even more youthful without the cover of powder. She was simply beautiful. His lips parted and breathing became difficult. She had no idea how exquisite she appeared gleaming in the moonlight, her bedroom beckoning him to her.

"Crane?"

He swallowed nervously, attempting to rasp out a response. He could not manage to form coherent words. He knit his brow uneasily. "Mmm?" he rumbled instead, his voice suddenly too deep to use.

"What are you doing? It's…," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep, squinting at what he could only assume was her alarm clock, "It's 3 in the morning."

He flexed his hands nervously at his sides and turned his body toward the shadows. He closed his eyes and stammered, "I..."

She interrupted him questioningly, "Are you washing clothes?"

His mouth hung open in the middle of an attempt to form an intelligible word. He took in a sharp breath. He nodded his head and replied breathlessly, "Yes."

"Oh, Crane, just leave it till tomorrow," she sighed sleepily.

Crane remained mute. A solitary sigh from her had the power to discompose him completely. He focused all his attention on maintaining his body shrouded by the darkness and restraining himself from taking a step toward her heavenly silhouette.

"Crane?" she asked, concern laced in her tone when he didn't respond.

He quickly shook himself from his stupor. He replied solemnly, "Yes, of course."

She hesitantly looked at him, waiting for him to protest. When he remained silent, she sighed again. "Alright. Go to sleep," she breathed.

"Hmm," he rumbled tensely.

Turning to close her bedroom door, she appeared to change her mind and turned toward him again huffing softly. She shifted her weight to one leg and hung her head. She toyed with the bottom hem of her shorts. "Listen, sorry about tonight. I didn't mean to get mad. I was just tired, exhausted…"

He raised his brows in surprise. If there was anybody who needed to excuse their behavior, it was him. However, he would not rebuff her attempt at making amends. He replied graciously with a nod of his head, "Of course."

She gave him a small smile before adding, "You can have some of my jellybeans anytime you want. Just ask next time."

He grinned and nodded politely, devotedly holding her gaze. "Thank you."

She shook her head teasingly and rolled her eyes. "Alright. I'm going back to bed. You should, too," she advised.

 _Not an invitation, Ichabod. Not an invitation_ , he repeated to himself. "Hmm," he managed to choke out.

"G'night, Crane," she said softly, slowly closing her bedroom door.

"Sleep well, Lieutenant."

The instant her door closed, he squeezed his eyes shut and closed his hands into fists. He tensely returned to the couch. He gingerly sat down before stretching out, one leg resting on the couch the other on the floor. He would not sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her heavenly form.

As he contemplated the ceiling for a few aching moments, he deliberated the chances of waking up Abbie if he showered again. This time with ice cold water.

 ** _A few minutes later..._**

Abbie awoke to the sound of the shower going. She rolled her eyes and adjusted her pillow under her head. _Leave to Crane to indulge in a shower in the middle of the night. The man has lost his mind,_ she thought dismissively before falling asleep again, her dreams filled with shameless thoughts of shared steamy showers.

* * *

 _Greetings! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Once I started writing, it was hard to stop adding details here and there. Ichabod and Abbie as roommates is an irresistible treasure-trove of writing jewels. I know right now it seems like this story has no plot but I'm just taking my time getting to there. With the show back on, it's kind of hard not to include some of those Ichabbie-centric details they've thrown at us._

 _Anyway, I had fun with this chapter and I hope this is still considered within the T-rated range. If not, let me know and I'll change the rating. I didn't intend to take this story into the land of smut but if the details or language are pushing it, let me know._

 _Also, I just wanted to say that I am so enthused to see Sleepy Hollow back on. I loved Thursday's episode, "I, Witness". I can't wait to see the next episode. Joey Corbin and Daniel Reynolds will be interesting additions._

 _Anyway, leave a comment if you'd like. What did you think of this chapter? What do you think about Sleepy Hollow this season? Thank you to everyone who has commented on, read, favorited, and followed this story. You keep me going strong!_

 _Your humble fanfic writer,_

 _semul_


	7. Chapter 7

"Damn. Just a towel?"

"I shouldn't have said anything."

"Wait, seriously? That's all he had on?"

Abbie agitatedly straightened out some papers on her desk, touching her tongue to the roof of her mouth and widening her eyes in affirmation. She couldn't bring herself to look up at her sister. She really shouldn't have mentioned anything to Jenny but it had just slipped out.

They had just come from looking into Martha Washington's letters at the archives hoping to find a connection to Pandora. Crane stayed behind to continue his search while they had gone to Abbie's office. It was when Jenny had casually asked what it was like seeing Crane everywhere. She told her that she understood that Abbie wasn't accustomed to having somebody follow her around everywhere and share a home with them. The last time she had something like that was back when they were kids and lived in the same foster home but since then, Abbie had been on her own. She clung to her independence. She preferred being alone, at least that is what Jenny assumed.

Yet, in all honesty, Abbie found living and working with Crane these past months to be natural so as long as he respected her boundaries. The instant he approached a barrier she had put up long ago, she avoided or ignored him. She could see it frustrated him. That was when she would retreat to her bedroom or left the house to finish some work in the office. She did not like to share her issues with anybody. What was hers, was hers. She didn't feel anything good would come out of burdening somebody else with all her shit. Yet, it didn't stop Crane from prying.

She cared for him and was attracted to him but those mere facts didn't do anything to break down all the walls she had built around her all these years. Sure, the counseling sessions she received at training had helped her with her reactive coping techniques and some self-esteem issues but she was still her. There were certain parts of her that she didn't want to share, not even with him, mostly because it meant having to confront the difficult personal issues she wanted to keep buried.

Nonetheless, she quickly found out that it was nearly impossible to escape his inquiries after coming home from their encounters with evil. They were usually at their most vulnerable after those skirmishes. Being on the brink of death, preventing evil from prevailing, really weakened her front, at least temporarily.

For him, it broke down the entire dam holding back the emotions he didn't wear on his sleeve, which surprisingly were plentiful. That's when he'd bust out the introspective emotional vomit and sincere declarations. Then he'd look at her with those big blue eyes. God, those eyes. And that goofy grin. It brought butterflies to her stomach and a smile to her face just thinking about it.

"So you bumped into him while he was wet and wearing _just_ a towel?"

Abbie took in a sharp breath and looked at her sister expectantly. She really shouldn't have said anything. That particular event that she was referring to had happened precisely after one of their encounters with one of Pandora's evil monsters. He had just come out of the shower, she was texting, not paying attention to what was in front of her, when she bumped into him in the hallway. Well, more like her face planted right into his very bare, damp chest. Then one of her hands ended up on his firm chest and her body pressed up against his very warm, taut stomach. He'd grunted and gripped her arms when she bumped into him. He'd look down at her, loose strands of his wet hair falling over his eyes. It was so tempting to brush his hair out of his eyes, stand on her tiptoes, and close the distance between their lips. Instead, she nearly lost herself in his steady, hypnotizing gaze. They'd stood like that until Abbie came to her senses and jumped away from him, apologizing and avoiding his eyes. She pushed past him and nearly ran to her room.

Fortunately, the accident was forgotten or at least that's what she believed. He didn't mention it. Not that he had a reason to bring it up, he wasn't interested in her in that way anyway. But then he acted as if it hadn't even happened, which was quite an accomplishment for him. He was the king of confronting awkward issues. To be fair though, later that same day she had confessed that she had found her long-lost dad and been following him around. It appeared that her truth bomb had provided enough distraction for that particular incident to never come up in their conversations. So far it had worked, just not on her part.

"It was an accident. End of conversation," said Abbie firmly, eyeing her sister carefully. She didn't want to go into the particulars of that incident but then again she didn't want to get into what she had revealed to Crane. She still hadn't told Jenny about their father and there was no way in hell she was about to bring it up now.

Jenny smirked mischievously. Abbie looked at her warily. Every time she held something back from her sister, Jenny would find a way to make her wish she would have been open in the first place. She knew she was scheming a plan to make her regret her unwillingness to talk about Crane but Abbie stood firm and merely raised her eyebrow, serenely drinking out of her mug of coffee.

Jenny smiled at her and nodded, impressed with Abbie's resistance. She nonchalantly walked toward Abbie's wall of accolades, reaching out to touch one of the frames. She casually asked, "So has he seen you without a bra yet?"

Abbie choked on her sip of coffee and scoffed incredulously, "Excuse me?"

"You know, you get home, put some yoga pants on, take off the torture device, relax…," she said teasingly, waggling her eyebrows.

Abbie glowered. "We're not talking about this, Jenny."

Jenny huffed, "Oh, come on. I missed out on your college days. I deserve some roommate drama talk."

"There's no drama."

"Well, there's obviously some half naked groping going on…"

It was then that Daniel Reynolds decided to barge in through her door. He looked at the two sisters who looked at him as if they had just been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. He grinned unsurely and raised his eyebrows. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked, looking at Abbie who was in the process of swallowing back an insult directed at her sister. She shook her head and smiled.

Jenny smirked and side-eyed her sister teasingly. "Special Agent Danny Reynolds, nice to see you again," she said, placing her hands in her back pockets of her jeans and nodding at him.

Daniel smiled brightly. "Legendary Jenny Mills, good to see you, too," he replied with a nod.

"I wouldn't make that name a habit. She has a big enough ego as it is," interjected Abbie, wrinkling her nose.

"See how badly she treats me," lamented Jenny, innocently shaking her head.

He chuckled before getting to the point of his visit. "Ha, yeah. Um, I, uh, just stopped by to see if you've filled out the paperwork to close out the Anaconda case," he inquired, looking at Abbie.

Abbie nodded. "I submitted them last week."

"Good, I need to look over them just to be thorough. It was big case for the bureau. We need to make sure everything is in order. No loose ends. Is it in the system?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, thanks. I just wanted to check," he said, openly gazing at Abbie. He opened his mouth again, looking as if he wanted to say something more but looked over at Jenny and changed his mind. Instead, he sighed reluctantly and smiled.

"I'll get to it then," he said, looking at Abbie, smiling tenderly.

Abbie nodded primly, fighting back a smirk and avoiding his gaze. Although they were now adjusting to their new ranks, there was still a spark between them. After all those months training together at Quantico, how could there not be? He'd seen her ugly. She'd seen his ugly.

Then there was the whole working off her frustrations with him. She had never intended for it to go that far but he had been the first man she had opened up to after Crane had left. She'd trusted Danny because he wasn't complicated. He was determined. He was goal-oriented. He pushed her with his competitiveness. And he knew what he wanted. God, did he ever know _exactly_ what he wanted. Abbie nearly blushed at the memory of her first-hand experience with his thoroughness and persistence in achieving his goals.

She was grateful that he had set the boundaries with their new job positions. She couldn't walk around blushing every time she talked to her boss, especially in front of Crane. Not that she felt guilty. Hell, Crane was a widow with a past and present full of women throwing themselves at his feet. If she wanted to pursue or have someone pursue her, then he'd just have to deal with it. Her problem was that she didn't know how to handle having feelings for two men at the same time. The feelings she had toward Crane were complicated but ran deep and strong. The feelings she had for Daniel were straightforward and purely based in the physical with a competitive, self-serving edge to it.

Granted, it appeared that she really didn't have much of a choice with either of them. Crane was only interested in a partnership with her. That had become obvious when he rejected her back at the cabin. And Daniel was only interested in using her to get ahead and help push her to bigger and better things; it was what he had told her from the get go. Though, his professionalism stung a bit. She was never the type of girl to be clingy but she wasn't made of stone. Of course, she had no intention of sleeping with the boss to get ahead but she didn't like feeling as if everything she had invested into their short-lived relationship was for nothing. She firmly believed that what they had shared wasn't just a meaningless fling. It had been a momentary but it had meant something to her. She wasn't the type to throw herself at just any man.

Daniel nodded and turned to walk out the door. He paused and turned to her before closing her door. He asked her somewhat hesitantly, "I…um…could you stop by my office when you're finished here?"

Abbie nodded as a tingle worked its way up her spine. As much as she tried to shake off her feelings toward him, there'd be moments where her body responded with a mind of its own. She inhaled sharply. "Yes, sir," she responded evenly.

He smiled and turned to Jenny, nodding. "Good to see you again, Jenny."

"You, too."

He left and Jenny teasingly shook her head at Abbie. Abbie raised her eyebrow questioningly. She knew Jenny was dying to tease her. They both couldn't hold back their smirks.

"What?" asked Abbie, eyeing her sister while she collected some files from her desk drawer.

Jenny shook her head indifferently. "Nothing," she said, putting on an innocent expression.

"That look doesn't say nothing," countered Abbie, doubtfully tilting her head.

Jenny chuckled. She crossed her arms and shook her head. "Damn, Abbs. Just…damn," she whispered, biting her lip, longingly looking at the door Daniel had used to walk out.

Abbie scowled at her fantasizing sister. She wasn't possessive of Danny but she didn't like the idea of sharing him with her sister, even in thought. "He's my boss," she said firmly, hoping to get her message across.

Jenny opened her mouth, playing offended. "I didn't say anything. God, Abbs get your head out of the gutter."

Abbie rolled her eyes. "I swear I'm gonna kick your ass one of these days," she threatened.

Jenny shrugged. "Nah, you just need to work off all that pent up sexual frustration. You know, it isn't healthy to keep it all bottled up," she said admonishingly.

Abbie shook her head, walking around to the other side of her desk where her sister stood leaning against the desk.

"So you have two willing candidates now. I wonder which one has the bigger…"

"Okay, it's time for you to go," interrupted Abbie abruptly, grabbing her sister's arm.

Jenny shrugged out of Abbie's grasp. "I _was_ gonna say bigger _ego_ , pervert," she said teasingly.

"I have a job to do," said Abbie tiredly.

Jenny nodded and walked to the door. "Right, of course. Wouldn't want to get in the way of your 'special meeting' with 'Special Agent Danny'," she said, opening the door. She turned around and thoughtfully added, "Although, now I'm wondering, does his office windows have blinds or how do those 'special meetings' work?"

"Leave."

Jenny left with a smirk on her face.

* * *

Ichabod entered the federal bureau of investigation offices, books and letters safely tucked into his coat. He checked in and received the visitor's pass the Lieutenant had permanently reserved for him. As they checked his coat and materials, he contemplated what his recent discovery could mean in the battle against Pandora's never-ending supply of evil.

He had discovered a connection between Lady Washington's letters and Pandora. Or at least he hoped it was a connection. Pandora had mentioned her dowry to Abbie, a dowry or box which could have easily been mistaken for a treasure chest. In Lady Washington's letter to General Washington, there had been mention of a lost treasure chest the Spaniards had acquired in 1780 during their involvement in the war.

The letter mentioned negotiations to obtain the lost treasure chest from the Spaniards. Of course, the fickle Spaniard monarchy of the time did not return the chest as they had only joined the effort to gain back territory from the British and to damage British trade, not to directly support the American cause.

How he despised the avaricious Spaniards of the time. They had only ever been interested in conquest and riches. It was an opinion that he and Jefferson had not shared. Jefferson recognized the importance of Spanish influence on the beginnings of American history and had once stated, 'Next to [French], Spanish is most important to an American. Our connection with Spain is already important and will become daily more so. Besides this, the ancient part of American history is written chiefly in Spanish.' Though Ichabod did not share his admiration of the Spanish conquest, he conceded that Jefferson was precise in his assertion in more ways than one.

He hoped the Lieutenant's connections and access to classified international information would guide them directly to the treasure chest, or at least to its location for the past two and a half centuries. It could give them a lead as to who Pandora was or why she had chosen to subjugate Sleepy Hollow to her reign of fear.

After having passed the invasive inspection, a completely unnecessary violation of common decency as he had righteously expressed to the indifferent officer at her post, he became entirely focused on finding Abbie. So much so that he failed to notice he had earned the attention of her superior, Special Agent Daniel Reynolds. It was why he nearly collided with him on his way to her office.

"Pardon…," he apologized, crouching down to retrieve the book that had been knocked from his hand.

"A historical text?" asked Agent Reynolds, as he quickly retrieved the book before Ichabod could reach for it.

Ichabod looked up in surprise. Of course it was Agent Reynolds. He rose to his feet and flipped his hair from his eyes to face the man that was Abbie's superior and former classmate. He could not presently describe the feelings churning in his stomach but understood the importance of leaving a good impression on her commanding officer. He smiled courteously. "Oh, Agent Reynolds. Forgive me, I did not see you. I was just on my way to Ms. Mills' office."

Agent Reynolds smiled tightly. "Of course you were."

"Yes, 'tis concerning a matter of the utmost importance," nodded Ichabod, hoping to quickly collect the book the agent was now turning over in his hands.

"I don't doubt it," he said, looking up at him and tapping the book against his palm, smiling challengingly.

Ichabod raised his eyebrow. He recognized a challenge when he sensed one. He stood up straighter and turned his body slightly in a defensive manner.

He knew Agent Reynolds and Abbie had a brief involvement. Of course, she had not admitted anything to him but he was no fool. It was as he had once told her, facial expressions had changed little, if at all, over the centuries. They had been more than classmates, more than friends. He had no right to be jealous but he could not control his emotions when he thought about her in another man's arms, specifically this man's notably muscular arms, especially after momentarily holding her in his own.

He was referring to the unintended collision between him and the lieutenant. It had taken place sometime ago after the victorious battle against the whispering wraith Marcus Collins. He had just finished bathing and was walking to his room for a change of clothes. He did not realize that she was walking in the opposite direction, distracted by her phone. She bumped into him, her entire body touching his. He had to hold her steady so as to not bring attention to his quite sudden, embarrassing incitement. She had looked at him with such an intensity that he could have sworn that they were both in a similar state of arousal.

It had been a perfect opportunity to correct the mistake he made nearly a year ago back in the cabin. Had she not run away from him like a frightened woodland creature, he would have pulled her closer and worshiped her lips with his own. Instead she scampered to her room and he had to pour himself a drink to calm his nerves.

The only good that came out of that situation was that he was able to convince her to open up to him during their conversation about secrets. She trusted him enough to admit to finding her father during his absence. After revealing that personal bit of information, he knew it would be uncouth to bring up their rather intense embrace. It paled in comparison to the issues Abbie was currently facing.

Now, he wished that he had kissed her just to have something to distract him from his jealousy toward the brawny agent. Agent Reynolds smiled with his perfect teeth as he held out the book to him. Ichabod cautiously eyed the agent and the book before reaching out for it. He nodded unsurely and tucked the book into his coat pocket.

Agent Reynolds took a breath before continuing the conversation. "I've noticed you're very dedicated to helping Abbie out with your consultant services. Is she your only client?"

Ichabod furrowed his brow. He knew they were roommates. He had made it a point to emphasize the fact during their first meeting. Abbie was no client. He cleared his throat, resisting the urge to glare, he said pointedly, "Ms. Mills is my friend, not a client. Thus, my services to her are completely unconditional."

"Roommate, too, right?"

Ichabod smiled. So that particular piece of information had not escaped him. "Yes, that is correct," he replied, attempting to not appear smug and failing quite intentionally.

The agent sucked his cheeks in and stuck his hands in his pockets. He nodded before continuing, "You know, I looked into your files, Mr. Crane. Former professor from Oxford, recently obtained permanent U.S. resident status though not an American citizen. Detained in a federal detention center a couple months ago for improper import of cultural heritage antiquities, bailed out by Special Agent Abigail Mills. Said confiscated antiquity retrieved by Special Agent Abigail Mills. Current residence with Special Agent Abigail Mills. Current employment is unknown."

Ichabod raised his eyebrows in surprise. He had done his research on him. A novice, insecure move. It appeared that this Agent Reynolds was interested in rekindling a relationship with the Lieutenant. Little did he know that it was not an option Ichabod was about to permit. He replied sardonically, "Impressive, Agent Reynolds. I had no idea my story was on record."

Agent Reynolds kept his composure and continued. "Mmm, all that, yet, you know what surprised me the most about you? How you managed to convince Abigail Mills to let you to move in with her," he said, tilting his head in curiosity. "She doesn't let a lot of people in."

Ichabod lifted his chin proudly. He nodded slightly and explained, almost pompously, "Our partnership, friendship, is unparalleled. I owe everything to her."

The agent nodded, seemingly appeased with Ichabod's answer. He suddenly asked, "So how long have you known her?"

"We've known each other for several years."

"That's…that's interesting because she never mentioned you during our training at the academy."

Ichabod's face nearly fell. He felt a sharp pain in his chest. The Lieutenant had not mentioned him to the man whose arms she had sought comfort in. He scolded himself, of course she didn't mention him. Why would she? He had rejected and left her. He had hurt her. There was no reason for her to boast about him after that. He cleared his throat nervously and mumbled, "I was in England at the time."

Agent Reynolds sensed his shame and nodded, containing a smirk. He screwed up his face in false concern. "True but she painted a pretty clear picture of Sleepy Hollow and everybody in it. Curiously, you were never mentioned. Why's that?"

Ichabod looked at him guardedly. He blinked. He took a deep breath and responded with as much dignity as he could muster, "We…I did not leave on the best of terms."

"Generous of her to forgive you then. And even give you a place to crash."

"Yes, she has been most generous."

"She is but, you know, that always was her greatest weaknesses. She could have made her way to the top even faster than me had she looked out for herself instead of letting people step all over her," said Agent Reynolds, in an almost protective tone, eyeing him distrustfully.

Ichabod narrowed his eyes. If Abbie needed protecting, it certainly wasn't from him. If there was anybody who should be distrusted, it was this agent. How could he insult Abbie's greatest strength? Her generosity was incomparable. She was kind, caring, loyal, and unwavering. She had been chosen for a higher, divine purpose. She was indispensable not only to their mission but to him as well. He couldn't imagine life without her.

He took a calming breath. The agent's comments were irksome but he couldn't lose his temper. He would defend his Lieutenant's honor the best he could. He smiled civilly and dutifully replied, "Well, Agent Reynolds, I must whole-heartedly disagree. Ms. Mills' charitable spirit is a quality to be admired, not dismissed as a weakness. Were it not for her unreserved generosity, many lives would have been lost these past few years, including my own."

"That's…interesting," said Agent Reynolds slowly. He furrowed his brow. "It almost sounds like you're talking about a war."

Ichabod straightened his back in alarm. He had not intended to reveal their mission, especially to the Lieutenant's superior. He needed to invent an excuse for his careless comments so he merely nodded his head adamantly. He tentatively explained, "Yes, well, in many ways that is the battle an officer of the law must face. The constant fight between good and evil, is it not?"

Agent Reynolds nodded in consideration. "A bit poetic for my taste but sure."

"Regardless of how it is said, Ms. Mills' humanity is what makes her vital not only to me but to your bureau as well. Does it not?"

The agent nodded in agreement. He paused to thoughtfully look at him before smiling. Ichabod nervously placed his hands behind his back, attempting to maintain his poise. Agent Reynolds finally chuckled after a long pause, "You know what? I like you, Crane. And I'm glad Abbs has you on her side."

Crane blinked and bowed his head slightly. "As am I."

He nodded and pursed his lips. "I have her back, too. She's going places. She's going to achieve those dreams she has. Give her some time, she'll make it to the top. And I'll be saving her a place next to me when she gets there," he said in a challenging tone.

Ichabod's nostrils flared and grinded his teeth. After that last comment, he knew Agent Reynolds could not be a trustworthy ally. His selfish interest in Abbie would not be tolerated. She deserved far more than what this agent could offer. She was not a ladder to climb or a prize to be won. She was to be respected. He sneered derisively, "Yes, well, I too hope she makes it to the top, as long as the top is what she desires."

Agent Reynolds grinned confidently. "Oh, I think she does."

"Crane? What are you doing here?"

Ichabod and Agent Reynolds turned to look down at the inquisitive agent. She folded her arms and raised her eyebrow. Both men relaxed their defensive stances and stared at her and each other uneasily. Ichabod was the first to respond.

"Lieuten…eh, Miss Mills, I was having a fascinating conversation with Agent Reynolds here," he explained, attempting to lighten the mood. Agent Reynolds nodded in agreement. Ichabod rolled his eyes at him.

Abbie looked at the two of them distrustfully. "Oh yeah?" she replied, before fighting back a smirk. "Was it…'awe-ful'?"

Both men looked at her. Agent Reynolds was confused. Ichabod was curiously amused. He fought back a smirk, remembering their long ago conversation about 'awful intercourse'. The Lieutenant was clever when she wanted to be. Interestingly, this time it was at her boss's expense. Ichabod nearly laughed aloud looking at Agent Reynolds work through what he had perceived as an insult.

Abbie blushed. "Sorry, just a joke. You had to be there," she mumbled, sharing a look with Ichabod. He smiled tenderly at her.

Agent Reynolds shrugged and smiled courteously. "I was just telling Crane how nice it must be for you to have his support. Though his story is a bit…unconventional."

"Yes, Crane's assistance has been essential and…I'm lucky to have him on my side," admitted Abbie timidly, refusing to make eye contact with him, focusing instead on defending him to her boss.

Ichabod smiled proudly. The Lieutenant rarely gave compliments. He would take them where he could.

Agent Reynolds nodded. He countered in a serious tone, "As long as it doesn't interfere with protocol. Though his lack of U.S. citizenship and employment makes it harder to justify his intervention on cases and presence in the bureau."

Ichabod rolled his eyes and glared at the agent. Of course, he would take every opportunity to get rid of him. It was then that Abbie gave him the greatest surprise of his life, which was saying something considering everything he had experienced.

Abbie nodded in agreement. "You're right, which is why I'm in the process of hiring him as a history consultant for my department as a necessary expense. At least until his citizenship status is being resolved. If I hire him, it will be easier to sponsor him as his employer to obtain his citizenship," she explained decisively.

Ichabod stood stunned. He stammered, "L-l-lieutenant…"

Abbie gave him a stern look that shut him up. She looked back at her commanding officer resolutely. Ichabod felt a warm feeling spread in his chest. He looked down at his tenacious Lieutenant. She was radiant. His savior. He revered her. He folded his hands behind his back and smiled. He haughtily looked at Agent Reynolds who appeared to be displeased with her suggestion.

After a moment, Agent Reynolds sighed reluctantly, "Well, it's like I said, Abbs, I trust your instincts. I'm not gonna stand in your way. And if this is part of your exit strategy, then you have my support."

Ichabod frowned. What exit strategy? Agent Reynolds looked at him smugly. Ichabod looked down at Abbie who was avoiding his gaze. She was hiding something from him. He was going to have to extract it from her as soon as they were alone.

"I still need to talk to you in my office," Agent Reynolds reminded her.

"Right, I was just heading there," she responded stoically. She turned to look at Crane. "Wait in my office?"

He inclined his head submissively. "Of course."

Ichabod suspiciously followed the two agents with his eyes. Once they were out of view, he walked into her office and quietly closed the door behind him. He studied her quiet office space. One could glean much about her just by examining her workspace. Abbie was organized, thoughtful, logical, and focused. Her strengths were his weaknesses. They balanced the scales together. He could not squander this opportunity to remain at her side. He sat in a chair contemplating his next move.

After a few minutes, she returned to her office. He glanced up at her. She appeared to be a bit hesitant. She held on to the knob of her door, frozen in thought.

"Lieutenant?" he asked concernedly.

After a moment, she looked up at him as if she had not expected him to be there. "Hmm? Crane, I forgot you were still here," she murmured.

Ichabod had planned to ask her about this 'exit strategy' Agent Reynolds had mentioned but it appeared something had startled her. He immediately stood from his chair. He cautiously approached her. "Is something the matter?" he asked concernedly, attempting to get her attention.

"I, uh, it's nothing," she responded flustered. She smiled, once again masking another secret from him. "Nothing to worry about. So what's up?"

Ichabod eyed her suspiciously. She was holding something back from him again. Yet, he knew better than to force her to confront an issue she wasn't ready to share so he cautiously asked, "Are you certain?"

"Very, so what have you got there?"

He looked at her unconvinced but he wasn't going to push her. She would share when she was ready. He just needed to be patient, not his best quality. Nevertheless, he decided to allow her to change the subject and shared his findings. "It is in regard to Lady Washington's letters. I found a text on how Spain had obtained a particular treasure chest during the war in 1780. I found the letter in which Lady Washington wrote to General Washington about negotiating its custody. If this chest was something that General Washington wanted possession of then it is certain that it held great influence in the war against the forces of evil."

"And you think it's the dowry Pandora mentioned."

"Yes, I was…"

"You think there might be something about it on record and it could help lead us to where or who Pandora is," responded Abbie almost in a trancelike state, nodding. It was the way she would demonstrate her focus on their conversation. She immediately began typing rapidly on her computer keyboard.

Ichabod walked around her desk and stood next to her. He held back a tender smile and raised his eyebrow in appreciation. He admired her ability to read his thoughts, it made their mission that much easier. He couldn't help but pay her a compliment. "You astound me, Lieutenant. It is as if our minds are of one at times," he marveled.

Abbie smiled and looked up at him coyly. She focused her attention back on the computer screen and casually replied, "Yeah, well, that's what makes us good partners."

Ichabod straightened and placed his hands behind his back. If he couldn't bring up the 'exit strategy' or why she had come back so flustered, the least he could do was confront the issue of her offering him employment without his consent. Her generosity was far too vast at times. He was not worthy of it.

He carefully brought up the topic, "And yet I feel as if I reap all the benefits of our partnership. What you told Agent Reynolds…about my citizenship…"

Abbie swiftly interrupted, "Yeah, I meant it."

She stopped typing and looked up at him timidly. She straightened up, took a step back, and sighed. She looked at him determinedly and carefully explained her decision, "I know you want to do it on your own and don't want my help but…I need you, Crane. I can't afford to lose you to some immigration complication. So if giving you a job here at the bureau will ensure that you earn your status then so be it. I don't mind."

Ichabod was dumbfounded. It was a declaration. She had admitted her need for him in her life. He could have shouted praises from the rooftops. She needed him. She. Needed. Him. He did his best to catch the breath that had been knocked from his chest. He shook his head. He nodded. He stuttered and finally after a few moments finally formed a few intelligible words. "I-I don't know how I could ever repay you for all of your generosity these past few years, Lieutenant."

She smiled and shrugged. "Hey, I know you would have done the same for me if the roles were reversed. Hell, you risked your job, your position in society, your sanity, your family, basically the entire outcome of the war when I traveled to your time. I even got Ben Franklin killed yet you still trusted me after just a few hours of knowing who I was. Granted, our selfie was what convinced you, you really stuck your neck out for me and it's only fair that I do the same," she explained.

If it were physically possible to burst with happiness, he would have burst into pieces all over her office floor. The giddiness he felt was near impossible to hold back. He wanted to take her in his arms and show her his appreciation. Instead, he was left with the only option of quelling his potent emotions.

Ichabod held back a smirk. He timidly looked down at his boots and looked up at her from his lowered lids. "Well, killing Franklin would not have been a great personal loss," he flirtatiously goaded.

"Really? Because you were pretty pissed off at me for that one. Something about me scheming, spying, and killing the most influential man in the war effort," she teased back.

He chuckled softly and gazed down at her. She looked up at him in amusement. His lips slightly parted as he gazed into her deep brown eyes. It was in that moment that he knew he would do everything within his power to win her heart. She was his. He was hers. Damn the consequences, damn the foretelling tablets. Their love deserved the opportunity to exist. It would endure the trials. It would be triumphant. He just needed to convince her. He would dedicate every waking moment to winning her over. She was worth it and more.

The love growing inside of him was near overwhelming yet he managed to murmur a sincere, "Thank you, Lieutenant."

She smiled softly. "You are very welcome…Captain," she murmured, her voice lowering to a breathy rasp.

Ichabod's smile fell as he took a step closer. She looked up at him serenely. He searched her eyes for her unspoken permission. Her lips parted as he took another step toward her.

Had it not been for her cellphone's ill-timed interruption, Ichabod would have surely committed an indiscretion in her very visible office. Instead, she smiled, reluctantly, and excused herself to take the call.

Ichabod gazed upon her as she walked away from him, placing unwelcome distance between them. He looked at her determinedly. Next time there would be no interruptions. Next time he would have a taste of her lips, if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

 _Hello again! Sorry it's taken me a while to get this posted. Last week was my 27th birthday so I spent the weekend relaxing with my ma and younger brother. Then this past week was full of grading, grading, and grading more papers. It took up a lot of time but I'm a teacher so it's unavoidable. Hopefully, I made up for the wait by making the chapter a bit longer than usual._

 _I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I tried to catch as many mistakes as possible but this story is "beta-less" and I usually make plenty of mistakes. I can't imagine what mistakes escaped me with this longer chapter. Oh well, what can you do?_

 _Anyway, leave a comment if you'd like. What did you think of the chapter? Are you liking Season 3 so far? What would you like to see from the show or Ichabbie in general? Love to hear your feedback. Thanks!_

 _Your humble fanfic writer,_

 _semul_


	8. Chapter 8

Abbie sat alone in her office, chewing on her thumbnail and staring absently into space. Heaving a sigh, she leaned back in her chair.

Her life was a mess.

This was the first time in days she had a moment to herself; a moment to think and process her emotions. How was she going to deal with the mess made? She would've been better off heeding her mother's advice and keeping to herself.

She should have kept her nose out of Crane's business and not forced him to take a job working with her. She also should have stuck to her guns when Danny started pushing her buttons, but no, she just had to let those damn feelings slip again, the ones she struggled to keep under lock and key.

What the hell happened to her ability to control her impulses? She was _that_ close to jumping Crane's bones after purring, 'Captain' to him. If it wasn't for that phone call, she would have been on the floor with Crane, her fingers tangled in his hair while she… _No_ _Abbie, calm the hell down,_ she scolded herself, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. She didn't even want to think about the conversation she had earlier with Danny.

She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

Her life was complicated because she allowed it to happen. She had no one to blame but herself. She just needed to clear her head and figure out what she was going to do. It's like Danny said, the ball was in her court. She just wished she knew how to play the game.

* * *

 _Earlier that day…_

Shortly after leaving her office, Abbie came across Danny and Crane in the hallway. Judging from their postures and facial expressions, the men were engaged in a pissing match of sorts. The air fairly reeked of testosterone.

Steeling herself, Abbie approached the two men, ready to diffuse the intense conversation. She wasn't sure what prompted the exchange, but she did her best to stay calm and levelheaded. She also did her best to protect Crane and save her own ass in the process.

Abbie was usually quick on her feet, but appointing Crane to a job, one he hadn't asked for, may have been a hasty solution. The last thing she wanted to do was treat Crane like the damsel in distress, but the less people paid attention to his past and complete lack of official records, the better. She knew she was walking a thin line when it came to having his back and safeguarding her career. If giving him a job within the department drew less attention to his Rip Van Winkle persona, then so be it. Her career and the life she built for herself – by herself – were worth it. She had sacrificed too much for their mission already and she wasn't willing to sacrifice that. She couldn't risk losing her work. It was her passion; her grounding force and motivation – not to mention it paid the bills and kept a roof over their heads. She just hoped Danny wanted to talk about closing the Anaconda case or go over some of the backlogged cases Granger left behind, not find out what she and Crane were hiding.

Holding back a smile, Abbie walked into Danny's office. Even though she felt apprehensive, she honestly enjoyed these one-on-one moments with Danny. It felt like old times at the Academy, back when they used to banter, make strategic plans, share drinks, and discuss mundane crap (among other things). No matter what, he always made her feel like she was equally important within the bureau. She appreciated his ability to simultaneously humble and make her feel validated. It was an interesting mix of friend and mentor, with an unavoidable undercurrent of sexual tension.

Danny shut the door as Abbie walked toward the chairs in front of his desk. Pausing, she looked over at her office to see where Crane had gone. She could see the top of his ruffled hair. He was sitting in one of the chairs inside her office while staring down at his smartphone, probably playing with his Bitmoji app. At least he was distracted and wasn't staring at them like a puppy left out in the rain. It was amazing how he could make her feel guilty with a single look. She sighed as she sat down. She was about to offer a flippant excuse for Crane's weird behavior when she noticed the humorless expression on Danny's face. She had been around him long enough to know when he was not in a playing mood. She immediately sobered up. This wasn't going to be one of those easy-going, banter-filled conversations.

She cleared her throat and tightly smiled, "So I'm guessing this is about going behind your back to hire Crane then."

He looked confused. He shook his head and muttered, "No. No, it's not about that."

She knit her brow. At least this wasn't going to be a conversation about her trustworthiness, but why was he so upset? "Okay, then what's this about?" she asked curiously.

His eyes roamed her face before taking in a sharp breath. He turned to pace around his office, resting his hand against his back. He turned toward her swiftly, opening his mouth to speak before changing his mind. He held up his hand and then let it drop. Shaking his head, he smiled at her halfheartedly. Hesitantly, he explained, "I'm not usually like this."

She smiled unsurely. "You sure?" she asked, gently teasing him.

He grinned. His eyes softened as he gazed at her for a moment, then sighed and hung his head. He leaned back against his desk, coming to rest next to Abbie's knees. Resting his hands against the edge of the desk, he peered up at her. "That," he nodded at the door, "That out there, that wasn't me."

She raised her eyebrow at him. It was true. She wasn't used to seeing Daniel Reynolds act petty when it came to playing by the rules. He was usually laid back when it came to such things, so as long as it worked out in his favor. Pointing out Crane's lack of citizenship was a peculiar move on his part. Crane's help with her cases was beneficial to both of them. She didn't understand why he felt threatened by Crane's presence.

"I don't really care what you do to help your roommate out. You've always been the one to help people. I get that," he said with certainty.

She turned her head slightly and looked at him expectantly. He was avoiding getting to the point. He must be feeling really uncomfortable – Danny was direct in everything he said and did. It wouldn't help if she interrupted, so she patiently waited for him to explain what was going on.

"I know I said what happened between us didn't have to get in the way. And it doesn't. It hasn't. I just…," he stared at her intensely for a moment before continuing, "It's getting harder for me to keep things separate. To go back to what we were before our 'dynamic' changed."

Abbie swallowed hard. She sat up straighter in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. This isn't the direction she expected this conversation to go. Flustered, she responded, "I'm not sure what you mean."

Daniel chuckled softly. He sat down in the chair next to hers and leaned forward, his knees touching her thigh. She shifted in her seat and looked at him guardedly. He gently took her folded hands into his large calloused ones. She looked down at their hands in surprise. This was definitely unexpected. He knew his office was more window than wall, right? Lucky for him, it was lunchtime. There were very few people left in the building, and most of them were distracted, oblivious, or completed uninterested in what was going on inside his office. She nervously blinked at him.

He gently shook her clasped hands, finding the determination to resume the discussion. He quietly explained, "I was attracted to you, Abs, right from the very beginning. Your passion, your determination, your talent – everything about you. And when it all ended, I didn't think we'd ever work together again. But now being around you it's…it's been bringing up these feelings I _thought_ I could work past."

Her eyes widened as he looked at her imploringly. He leaned in a bit closer. Her heart sped up and the air seemed to get thinner. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Would he? She looked at him cagily.

"I know it's like you said, we're on different tracks. I'm your boss now, I get it. But this is something that I just can't put out of my mind."

 _Oh God, what the hell is happening_ , she thought trying to contain her panic. After laying down the rules, he was taking them back. She felt like she was going to be sick. Her nerves were on edge, but she wasn't sure if she was thrilled or royally pissed. Another emotion tried to nettle its way in there, but she adamantly ignored whatever was causing her heart to flutter in alarm. She did her best to remain calm as she searched his face for any sign of insincerity.

He looked at her nervously. "Abbie, I want … I'd like an opportunity to try 'us' out again. We made it work before. I think we deserve a chance to figure out where our working relationship can take us."

She frowned. Yup, she was decidedly pissed off. How dare he spring this on her? After everything he said when he arrived in Sleepy Hollow – "clearing the air," as he put it – he suddenly wanted a relationship with her? She snorted, trying her best not to stutter, "Relationship? I thought you said…"

Daniel squeezed her hands in his own as he closed his eyes impatiently. "I know what I said, Abs, but I need you in my life. Outside of this," he declared firmly, motioning toward his office door with his chin.

She couldn't believe it. All of a sudden he needed her? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was she only there to satisfy his needs? Did she only matter when his urges came up outside the office? She scoffed disbelievingly, "So, what? Like colleagues with benefits?"

He frowned. "No, I…"

Abbie snatched her hands out of his grasp and stood up. He was the one who laid down the rules. She wasn't about to scrap all the progress they made in their professional relationship just because he was feeling sorry for himself, especially now that she was getting used to the boundaries. The pitter-patter in her chest reminded her that wasn't the only reason for sidestepping his suggestion.

She squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the alarm bells going off inside her head. Damn him. He couldn't up and change his mind like that, not now. She took a deep breath to calm herself. After a moment, she held up her hands defensively, a tense smile plastered on her face as she looked toward the ground. "Listen, Danny, I…you can't ask me to do that. I've worked too hard for this. I can't throw it all away just because you changed your mind," she affirmed.

He slowly stood from his chair and shook his head, perplexed by her reaction. "You wouldn't be throwing anything away."

She blinked disbelievingly. How could he dismiss her concerns as if they didn't matter? She'd be putting her career on the line if she even thought about attempting a relationship with him. Why couldn't he understand that? She shook her head incredulously. "Maybe, to you, but to everyone else I'd be the agent that slept her way to the top. And don't tell me that's not what it would look like," she cautioned him.

He huffed and raised his eyebrow at her. "It wouldn't matter. It isn't anybody's business," he reminded her.

She folded her arms defensively. "And when has that ever been true about a woman in this field, Danny? Hmm? The instant a woman slips up is the moment she loses everything. We don't get applauded for screwing the boss," she said derisively.

He raised his eyebrows and scoffed silently. Blinking in surprise, he folded his arms across his broad chest. Abbie eyed him carefully. She may have just crossed a line. She didn't mean to say it so bluntly, but he was pushing it. He couldn't poke at her and not expect a reaction, especially when she hadn't expected it. After a moment of tense silence, he furrowed his brow. "So that's all it would be to you?" he asked quietly.

She looked down. Okay, maybe the whole 'screwing the boss' part was unnecessary. If their roles were reversed, and Abbie was the one sitting in the boss' chair, Danny would never dismiss her so flippantly. He would listen and try to make it work. Feeling her stomach twist in shame, Abbie shifted her eyes away from him. "That's all it would be to everyone else," she replied plainly.

He snorted and she looked up at him in bewilderment. Was he laughing? Had he lost his mind? She looked at him unimpressed. He chuckled, eyes filled with mirth, shaking his head. "God, that's good. You're good."

"I'm serious, Danny."

"Yeah, I get it," he said, his smile fading to a smirk. He squinted at her, as though investigating a suspicious lead, and took a cautious step forward. Abbie stood up, sidestepping the chair as she moved toward the door. He noticed her evasiveness and stopped. He nodded but huffed, "I get it but don't come at me with that offended career woman shit. You _never_ gave a damn about what other people thought. All this, it's just talk. You don't believe it for one second. So tell me the truth, Abbie, what is it you're really afraid of?"

She scoffed, folding her arms tightly across her chest, "Yeah, you think you know me so well? What the hell do you know, Reynolds?"

He tilted his head down and took another step toward her. "What are you afraid of, Abbie?" he probed.

"I don't need this," she muttered, rolling her eyes and turning to leave.

"Yeah, run away from it. S'good. Keep clinging to all that crap you refuse to let go. Just keep it all in, Abs," he goaded.

Abbie turned and glared at him, her chest heaving, nostrils flared. How dare he hassle her? He had no right. He didn't know her. _Probably, because you won't let anyone in_ , a voice taunted inside Abbie's head. She unfolded her arms and clenched her fists at her side, ignoring the voice.

He gazed at her steadily. "In all this time I've known you, you've never backed down from anything. You've never used those shitty excuses. So what is it? What are afraid of?" he asked her again.

"I'm not…," replied Abbie, frustrated with the direction their conversation was going. She couldn't storm out. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Instead, she folded her arms again and squared her shoulders.

"Just tell me."

Abbie rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Tell me, Abbie."

Abbie glared at him. Danny looked at her expectantly. God, she hated him right now. He was going to make her do it. Leave it to Daniel Reynolds to push her to the point of no return.

"Fine!" she snapped. "You wanna know what it is, hmm?"

His face became serious as he looked at her in concern. If this is what he wanted, then this is what he was going to get. It was about to get real. She smiled wryly. "Fine. I am scared. I'm scared out my goddamn mind. I have lost everybody in my life. Everybody!" she laughed scornfully, shaking her head.

His eyes softened. She refused to let him say anything. One word out of him and she would break. "The second I care about somebody, the second I feel like everything's gonna be alright, it isn't! It never is," she firmly stated.

Daniel nodded attentively. She looked at him and felt her resolve crumble. She'd spent years trying to keep people out and now she was finally letting someone in. She breathed in uneasily. She felt light headed, drained.

"I can't take another one, Danny. I can't start _this_ and lose you, too. I wouldn't handle it. I-I just can't. I can't," she whispered, sucking in her lips. If she kept talking, she'd choke up, so she focused on keeping the tears at bay. Images of everyone who left her flashed before her eyes. Her mother, her father, her sister, ex-boyfriends, Corbin – everybody, all the way up to the last image of Crane letting her leave the cabin before he abandoned her for nine months.

They all decided she wasn't enough. They all left with no consideration of how it would affect her. They had no idea what it took for her to accept their absence and find the strength to keep going, but her strength didn't come without tremendous effort. Contrary to popular belief, her strength had never come naturally. She worked so hard to protect herself from feeling weak or abandoned…

She squeezed her eyes shut. Right now, she just needed to focus on finding the strength to breathe and not break into a sob.

Daniel sighed when he saw a tear roll down her cheek. "God, Abbie," he whispered. He fiercely took her in his arms and embraced her tightly. He rubbed her back gently and tucked her under his chin. She shuddered, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves, breathing in his fresh-smelling cologne.

She rested against his firm chest. She had missed his touch, his scent, his arms around her. He had been her haven when she was alone for all those months. He provided her with the motivation and comfort she so desperately needed. Could he be what she needed now? Was it enough to move on? Could he be part of the life she was building for herself? After a few ponderous moments, her breathing returned to normal. She pulled away and sniffed. She looked out the glass windows of the office. Luckily, nobody had seen them.

"Sorry, I …," she laughed nervously, wiping under her eyes to avoid smearing her makeup. She was suddenly grateful no one was around to witness her ill-timed breakdown. Danny reached up and gently cupped her cheeks. She sighed reluctantly and placed her hands over his. She closed her eyes, remorseful for divulging her weakness, but relieved to share it with the one person who didn't feel the need to save her.

"No, don't apologize. Never apologize for that," he said softly, wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. "That fear you feel, it's yours and only you know what it's like, but I understand. The way I see it, you've earned all the right in the world to be scared, to be angry. You've gone through a lot."

She glanced up at him and nodded firmly. He understood what she had shared with him. The best part was he didn't feel the need to fix it or assign blame. She didn't know how Crane would have reacted in the same situation.

As amazing as he was, Danny truly had no idea of everything she had gone through. Crane, on the other hand, knew almost too much about her. It made her reluctant to show anything that resembled weakness around Crane. It didn't help when he threw it back in her face during a petty argument, just to prove a point. He upbraided her for trusting the angel Orion; and he'd recently admonished her for not telling Jenny what she knew about their father. It was irritating and made her feel betrayed. It's why she avoided having those types of conversations with him.

Danny, on the other hand, would never understand the whole supernatural, Witness with a capital "W" part of her life. He would be the first person to lock her up in Tarrytown Psychiatric if she told him the full extent of her experiences as a Witness. He wasn't the type of person to handle it, whereas Crane thrived on sharing the supernatural craziness with her. His trust and belief in her ability as a Witness boosted her ego. It gave her confidence and a sense of purpose.

Both had their good and bad sides. Both held important roles in her life. At this very moment, they were equally important to her. If someone put a gun to her head and told her to choose between them, she didn't know if she would even be capable of making that decision.

Danny, unaware that Abbie's mind was spinning out of control, smiled tenderly and lowered his hands down to her shoulders, squeezing them gently. "I just hope you see what I see. You are an incredible person, Abbie. You've achieved your goals completely on your own. You're respected in your community. You have a sister who loves you. A creepy roommate who's scary loyal to you...," he said, making a face. Abbie snorted through a sniff. He smiled gently and continued listing her accomplishments, "You have a home, friends who care about you and colleagues that admire you, including myself."

She smiled and looked down bashfully. She wasn't used to the compliments. They always made her uncomfortable, but she accepted them as gracefully as she could. "Thanks," she mumbled.

Danny tilted her chin up and gazed into her eyes. He pulled her closer. Her lips parted involuntarily as she started to melt in his dark eyes. "You might have lost a lot in life, Abs, but you have found so much more," he murmured, his puffs of breath caressing her lips.

Abbie closed her eyes and breathed in steadily, once again thankful for the absence of spectators. They stood still for a few moments. Abbie didn't know what to expect. If he kissed her now, she'd have to work twice as hard to prove herself within the bureau. After a moment of silence, she opened her eyelids just in time to notice the desire in his eyes. But, as if hearing her thoughts, he pulled away. He took a step back, giving them space, but never breaking his eye-contact with her. She shivered at his intensity and immediately craved the warmth his body provided. Instead, he crossed his hands behind his back in a display of restraint, demonstrating his ability to respect her boundaries.

"Don't let it hold you back," he advised her, his expression intense. He turned to walk back to his desk. Abbie nearly collapsed as her knees wobbled in an effort to keep her upright. She shook her head, waking from her stupor. He always had a way of putting her in a daze whenever he got close to her. And he always had a way of teasing her to the point where it would be unbearable if she didn't act. She nodded determinedly, turning to leave before she did anything impulsive she'd regret.

"One last thing," he added, resting his arm on his desk chair. Abbie turned back to face him, widening her eyes, unsure what to expect yet hoping in vain. He gave her a coquettish smile. "I expect an answer sooner or later about what we discussed, but I'm leaving the ball in your court. I'm going to let you decide where you want to take this."

Abbie nodded slowly in a trancelike state, leaving his office to return to her own. If she felt conflicted before entering his office, she was on a completely different level of confused when she left.

* * *

 ** _Hello all!_**

 ** _So how'd you like it? I know this was another Abbie-centric chapter but I really needed to do this for her. I hope I did her character justice by using Danny as her foil. Abbie is such an interesting character, I could write about her forever. She is my absolute fave! We need more of her!_**

 ** _Anyway, I'd like to take a moment to make a HUGE SHOUT-OUT to my very lovely, very talented, very amazing beta, krashingkritter. She has taken on the enormous task of helping me out with this story. I am super grateful and very blessed to have her as my beta! Thank you, krashingkritter!_**

 ** _So let me know what you thought. Where would you like this story to go? What's your view on what's going on with the show? I look forward to hearing from you all!_**

 ** _Your humble Abbie fanatic,_**

 ** _semul_**


	9. Chapter 9

Abbie sighed, swiveling left to right in her office chair. How long had she been sitting there? An hour? Two hours? Hell, for all she knew it had been less than fifteen minutes since she left Daniel Reynold's office, and she still had no idea what to do. She hired Crane impulsively, but she was serious about needing him around. He was essential to solving her cases and she wanted him by her side – never mind that he was her fellow Witness, the man with whom she shared an unbreakable bond. Daniel, on the other hand, was there to pick up the pieces after Crane left. He was the one who pushed her to achieve her long-desired dream. He gave her everything she needed, as well as a few things she didn't realize were missing. She felt torn. She wanted Crane. She wanted Danny.

Sighing tiredly, she pushed back from her desk and stood up. One thing was certain: she needed to get home and rest before she did something stupid, such as kissing her boss. _Yeah, Abbie, good idea._

She said goodbye to the few people left in the office, climbed into her car and drove home. Along the way she warbled to the sounds of Toni Braxton un-breaking her heart and crooned with Whitney Houston about believing in miracles. Belting out some of her favorite songs was surprisingly cathartic, and for once in her life, Abbie was thankful for the never-ending parade of stoplights. It gave her time to consider all the pros and cons of taking on a relationship right now. Was there really room in her life for something other than working for the bureau or saving the world from the next apocalypse?

By the time she pulled up outside her house, she felt hopeful about the decision she was leaning toward. Sliding out of the car, she wearily walked toward the cozy front porch. The windows glowed softly from the light within; Crane was home.

Not that she expected otherwise. Crane proudly informed her that he was going to study for his citizenship exam before leaving the Westchester field office. She smiled. He was really making an effort to stand on his own two feet. She appreciated his drive and enthusiasm, but she wasn't looking forward to the day he decided to move on. Even so, she didn't want him to feel obligated to stay with her, a fact that made her want to jump back into her car and drive away – anything to avoid the conversation they needed to have about her final decision.

Abbie heaved a sigh – she could delay that conversation a little bit longer. In the meantime, she took a moment to admire her house. She adored its grandeur, as well as the small yard, pleasant neighborhood, and charming porch swing. It was exactly what she dreamed of as a kid – a world away from foster homes and the "boat window" in her old bedroom. _I should appreciate this more_ , she thought. Nodding to herself, she sat down on the porch steps, breathing in the crisp evening air. She slid out of her boots and stretched her legs.

She meditated on her decision to start an intimate relationship with the man she was falling for – had been falling for from the beginning. It was time. She didn't feel confident or prepared, but if she waited until she felt ready, she'd surely lose her opportunity with him. She took a few deep breaths, enjoying the clear, calm night. She hoped she was making the right choice.

She leaned her head back and she stretched her neck. She craved a long, hot shower. Closing her eyes, she moaned at the thought of putting on her fuzzy flannel pajamas and curling up in bed. After a few moments, she realized it was getting harder to keep her eyelids open. She picked up her boots and soundlessly opened the door.

She walked in, quietly shutting the door behind her and setting her boots down. Soft music played in the background. Abbie furrowed her brow. _Strange. That wasn't Crane's typical go-to study music._ She took off her coat and started to hang it on the coat rack when she noticed a sweater that didn't belong to her or Crane – unless he recently turned into a small woman with an affinity for girly sweaters. At the rate they were going, she wasn't going to discard it as a possibility.

She carefully padded down the hardwood floors in the short hallway. Moving through the house, she heard hushed voices coming from the dining room. A thought suddenly occurred to her: if Crane was studying, he was with the tutor he told her about earlier, the one she caught him texting to several times. Her name was something old-timey sounding, like Caroline or Coralline. Or was it Corinth? _What is his deal with women whose names start with C or K_ , she wondered.

Sure, she felt a stab of jealousy whenever she saw him typing or smiling at his phone, but what was she going to do? Take his phone away like a possessive parent? Tell him to stop texting her like a jealous girlfriend? She had been the one encouraging him to get out there and find his place in this world. She couldn't stop him just because she felt insecure. She had no right to tell him anything, but hopefully that would change after their conversation tonight. It would be one of her conditions.

Looking back on it, she didn't know what inspired her to approach the dining room so silently. She should have made a racket like she normally did, or sat outside and enjoyed the cool night air for a few more minutes. Why did she have to come in the house at that precise moment? It must have been divine intervention or fate, or whatever the hell people said to appease their feelings of guilt, anger and sadness. For her it was all three. Thanks to destiny, or whatever the hell you called it, Abbie was treated to the sight of Miss Corinth, Crane's supposed tutor, leaning across a stack of books – practically in his lap – and kissing him.

Abbie froze. Her heart sputtered. She tried to breathe but realized it was futile; her lungs were in shock. Her stomach dropped. She broke out in a cold sweat. Basically, she experienced all the cliché terms people use to describe feelings of utter shock and horror. Those feelings only intensified when Crane continued the kiss, hesitantly reaching up to caress his supposed tutor's cheek. Abbie felt a sharp sting in her eyes.

She shut her eyes and turned to walk back to the front door, controlling her need to vomit. She took deep breaths. How could she have been so naïve? What in the world allowed her to think something like this wouldn't happen eventually? She swallowed back the lump in her throat and took a few steadying breaths. She paused and stared at the mocking door in front of her. Hastily, she turned the knob, opening the door and slamming it shut before she had a chance to second-guess her actions. She cleared her throat and croaked out, "Hey, I'm home."

Resigned to the situation, Abbie closed her eyes and hung her head. There was no way to avoid confronting her worst nightmare now. _Nice going, Abbie,_ she admonished herself.

Turning from the door, she stared at the never-ending hallway that led to the dining room. She continued to take deep breaths and nod self-assuredly. She could do this. It wasn't the end of the world. Nobody was dying. Nobody was hurt. _No one, except you_ , the little voice in her head jeered. She gritted her teeth. She had gone through so much worse in her life. This was nothing. This was insignificant. In reality, Crane was nothing more than her friend, her roommate. That much hadn't changed.

Impressed with her ability to remain calm and keep her voice from cracking, she jingled her keys convincingly and kicked the boots she left lying on the floor. She took a moment to collect herself before pasting on a friendly grin. She could do this. It wasn't his fault he couldn't read her mind. She may have made her decision to be with him, but he had no idea. He was completely free to do as he wanted. She had no claim on him. She made her decision too late and now she had to deal with the consequences. It was fine. She was fine. _Everything is fine, s_ he continued to repeat to herself, working her way down the hallway. She stopped a few steps away from the dining room entrance and took one last breath.

There were moments in Abbie's life in which she impressed herself with her acting abilities, this was about to be one of them.

* * *

Upon returning from the lieutenant's office, bereft of any leads that might indicate Pandora's origin, Crane resolved to prepare for his citizenship exam. It would provide enough distraction to keep him from thinking about the moment he and the lieutenant shared in her office.

It had been yet another wasted opportunity. He nearly snatched the offensive phone that interrupted them and threw it against the wall; however, he knew that would have undoubtedly angered her. Therefore, he restrained himself, walked home in the crisp afternoon air, and texted his tutor, Miss Corinth, to inform her of his exam preparations. He didn't know what inspired him to communicate with her, but the conversation led to offers of aid from his enthusiastic tutor.

In all honesty, he needed guidance wading through the countless, preposterous forms required to attain citizenship in the United States. It was absurd, as he frequently reminded the lieutenant, to petition for citizenship in the very country he helped found. More than that, it was a direct violation of his long-ago, hard-earned rights. John Adams would be appalled to learn citizenship required more than literacy and knowledge to vote. Thankfully, Ms. Corinth was gracious enough to offer her knowledge and connections, free of charge.

It could be said that he was, perhaps, selfishly taking advantage of her friendship to achieve his goals; that he was misleading her and, perchance, there was more truth in that statement than he cared to admit. Nevertheless, he was fond of Miss Corinth's company. She offered him worthy conversation and welcome flattery. Their inconsequential conversations provided him with a sense of triviality. It was simple. It was ordinary.

He could not seek triviality with Abbie. He cared for her more than life itself. They battled the evils of the world together. They shared a living space and meals. They helped each other unwind after their battles – her with her distractingly alluring yoga and him with his noisy video games. They cleaned together – both singing along to their preferred tunes – and shared quiet moments. They became irritated with each other and laughed together. They shared in their difficulties and celebrated their achievements. What he had with Abbie was far from ordinary. Every moment was a marvel.

Conversely, he valued the ordinariness of Miss Corinth. She offered much in terms of friendship, especially with her connections and knowledge in his quest for citizenship – Ichabod sought nothing more thusly. She was attractive and generous, but he was not attracted to her in the same manner he was attracted to his partner. Miss Corinth was nothing more than a means to an end. Nonetheless, it appeared his tutor had arrived that evening with more than friendship in mind.

Upon settling into the dining room and studying for a few hours, her apparent confidence and flirtatiousness began to appear suspect. It was unnerving, but he dismissed her giddy behavior as being overenthusiastic, as was the manner of most young women of this time.

Then again, he should not have been quite so dismissive, for he was taken aback when Miss Corinth leaned over and kissed him unexpectedly. He froze in shock. This was not what he intended. Perhaps he once again 'sent mixed signals' as the lieutenant would say. He could not allow this to continue, but as her thin lips moved over his own, curiosity won over. He thought there might be a modern technique he could – possibly – utilize later with the lieutenant.

Unfortunately, it was more awkward than instructive. It appeared that modern kisses were not as innovative as he assumed. It was a relief, really. It was an insecurity he maintained every time he envisioned kissing Abbie. What if it wasn't pleasant for her due to his lack of modern experience? He could not live with himself knowing he may have disillusioned her with his lack of the romancing skills. As he waited for the kiss to be over, he contemplated this new experience. If Miss Corinth's kisses were considered typical of this time, the kisses he was saving for Abbie would be far from disappointing.

In the midst of waiting, he heard the front door slam shut, announcing the Lieutenant's arrival. His heart nearly stopped. He quite literally hurled Miss Corinth off of him. He wiped his mouth, tucked his hair behind his ears and crossed his arms and legs. Abbie could not see him like this. She would, most assuredly, be disheartened, and all the efforts he had made to gain her trust would have been in vain. Any possibility of a romance between them would be thwarted. He could not allow it to happen.

Miss Corinth looked at him in bewilderment. He simply furrowed his brow. She opened her mouth, perhaps to inquire as to his odd behavior, but he held a finger up. He could not allow her to aggravate the situation they found themselves in. It was not his house, and the only reason Miss Corinth didn't run screaming from him was due to the Lieutenant's positive influence and efforts to adapt him to this world. They were in no position to disregard her need for tranquility in her own home.

After a few agonizing moments, the Lieutenant timidly appeared in the dining room entrance. She had her hands in her back pockets and kept her eyes downcast. She feebly smiled at them, avoiding eye contact whenever possible.

"Hey ya'll," she said softly.

Ichabod stood, his fingers nervously fluttering at his sides. He hoped there was no obvious evidence as to what just occurred, but his stomach dropped after taking a moment to study her reaction. She avoided eye-contact. She was unusually hushed and kept her distance from them. It was a strong indication she was exceedingly uncomfortable.

"Lieutenant, good evening," he said nervously, attempting to catch her gaze.

She glanced up at him before quickly looking at Miss Corinth. She couldn't even bear to look at him but he could sense the hurt in her eyes. His heart ached. Dear Lord, what had he done? He had betrayed her and she knew. Of course she knew. How could she not know?

"Sorry to interrupt…," she said, smiling gently at Miss Corinth.

He shook his head adamantly, taking a step toward her. "No, of course not Lieutenant. Your presence is, as always, most welcome. In fact, it is near necessary. You are the essence of this home. Without you, this household would surely…," he elaborated, hoping to earn his way into her good graces once more.

"Ahem…" coughed Miss Corinth, widening her eyes at him.

He knit his brow at her. He looked over at Abbie who was tiredly blinking her eyes, her head tilted impatiently. He cleared his throat, "Ah, yes, Lieutenant, allow me to introduce Miss Corinth. She is currently tutoring me in preparation for my citizenship exam. Miss Corinth, this is Lieut…Miss Abigail Mills. She is…," explained Crane, before being interrupted hastily.

"His roommate," Abbie finished firmly, extending her hand to greet her. "I'm Abbie. Nice to meet you, uh, Miss Corinth?"

Crane frowned. The word 'roommate' did not imply any type of bond worthy of describing theirs. He knew he deserved her indifference after comporting himself in such an undignified manner. It was shameful. Nonetheless, he could not stand to be dismissed as merely her "roommate". She had done it to him once already with Agent Reynolds. He could not stand for it a second time. He was about to interject when Miss Corinth spoke.

"Likewise, Miss Mills. And you can just call me Zoe. Ichabod has told me so much about you," she said effusively.

Abbie raised her eyebrow and chuckled nervously. "Oh really? That's…unnecessary of him," she said, smiling tightly and glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

He looked at her in confusion. How could it possibly be unnecessary of him to praise her for everything she had done for him? Of course he would boast of her kindness and generosity. She had saved his life countless times – he owed her everything. He searched her passive expression with his eyes, attempting to gain her attention, to get a feel for her state of mind, but she continued to evade his gaze.

After a moment, Abbie cheerfully widened her eyes and let out a deep breath. "Listen, don't mind me. I'll just be in and out," she said quickly, turning to leave.

Before she could walk away, Ichabod took a step forward and swiftly asked, "Oh, do you have plans this evening, Lieutenant?"

She had not informed him of any plans, but she rarely went out without inviting him. On the occasions he was not invited, she ensured that he knew ahead of time. Though, her behavior was highly irregular. If she was upset, she would have at least glared at him. She would not have acted so passively or evasively. There was something else troubling her. She, of course, would not reveal it to him in front of their guest, but he could at least attempt to discern if it had to do with his indiscretion or something else entirely.

She paused mid-step and took a deep breath. She turned back around, still avoiding his gaze. She bit her lip and murmured affirmatively, "Mmm."

He narrowed his gaze before tilting his chin up. She was not going to elaborate. Instead, she had reverted to grunting. It was not the first time he had encountered moments of unintelligible chunter. He was, after all, a former captain of young, untried soldiers; his patience had already been tested to its limits centuries ago. If she thought her refusal to use words or give him her attention would discourage him from inquiring further, she was mistaken.

"You did not mention any previous engagements earlier," he pointed out, patiently awaiting her explanation.

She smiled tightly and exhaled through her nose. She finally looked up to meet his gaze. "It just came up," she said through clenched teeth.

So, she was not going to tell him willingly. Very well, he would extract the information using the skills he developed as a former spy for General Washington. His training made him capable of extracting information from even the most unyielding British soldier. Abigail Mills was no Redcoat, but he was ready for the challenge. Then he saw the defiance in her eyes and all coherent thought left him. She silently dared him with her eyes to make his move. His hands twitched at his sides. Only she could make him feel nettled and excited at the same time. _This was not the time to think such thoughts_ , he admonished himself. Instead, he challenged her with a subtle raise of his eyebrows, moving his head to one side.

"Oh? With whom?" he demanded enviously, failing to feign disinterest, his resolve to rely on his interrogation skills weakening.

Abbie stood still, calmly eyeing him. It unnerved him to see her so stoic. He swallowed nervously. His attempt to discover the cullion whom she had an engagement with was fruitless. The attempt to discern the source of her upset was unsuccessful. His resolve slowly faded away. She would have been an excellent spy in his time, far more skillful and effective than the entire spy ring combined. She silently blinked at him several times before turning to their guest.

"Zoe, it was really nice to finally meet you. Stay as long as you want. Excuse me," she said, swiftly departing from the room, ignoring his last inquiry.

Crane gaped at her retreating form in exasperation and awe. She could be so frustrating and yet so skilled at revealing nothing. It was maddening and arousing, all at the same time. He glanced over at Miss Corinth. She raised her eyebrow at him. He opened and closed his mouth, attempting to make intelligible words in the midst of his current state. He made a few grunts and squeaks before finding the words he wanted to say. "She is…I apologize, Miss Corinth; however, I believe our study session has come to an end," he said with a slight bow of his head.

Disappointed, she knit her brow. "Really? I thought we could go over it a little bit more. You know, cover all our bases. If you're up for it?" she asked with a note of hope in her voice, waggling her eyebrows.

The color drained from his face as he shook his head nervously. "Ah, yes, erhm, thank you. I deeply cherish your kindness and assistance this evening; however, I must decline your offer to 'cover all our bases'," he said as graciously as he could muster. He did not have the heart to dismissively state that their actions were a mistake and that he had no intention of ever furthering their acquaintance beyond its current state. Besides, he still needed her to help him attain his citizenship. He needed to mindful of his words and actions.

Miss Corinth nodded her head, reluctantly collecting her things. "It's her, isn't it?"

Crane feigned to be taken aback by her comment, looking away uneasily. It was disconcerting to know how obvious his emotions were toward Abbie. He couldn't allow his sentiments to be discovered by anyone, save the object of his desire. It could put her in danger.

"Lieuten…Miss Mills? No, of course not. I…it is late. I mustn't keep you any longer," he said hurriedly, helping Miss Corinth to collect her books and papers. He could not have this conversation with his tutor. For one, it was inappropriate given their recent actions. Moreover, he could not fully trust her with the secrets he held close to his heart.

Miss Corinth stopped and looked at him until he paused and apprehensively returned her gaze. "So, does she know?" she asked with a hint of understanding.

"Hmm? Know? Know what?" he asked nonchalantly, returning to his task and straightening out the stack of textbooks on the table.

"Does she know you're in love with her?"

His fingers froze over the books. "P-pardon?" he stuttered.

"You're in love with Abigail Mills, your roommate."

He shook his head in denial and attempted to clarify. Ms. Corinth could not be privy to that information unless he had been wearing his emotions on his face. He had acted irresponsibly in not masking his sentiments. That sensitive information could be easily used against him and Abbie in their mission. He needed to detract attention from his evident vulnerability. He dismissively stammered, "I…we…it is not at all...we simply share a bond and the same residence."

She nodded sagely. "And you practically spend all your time with each other. I've never seen two people so attached at the hip," she pointed out.

He looked at her glibly. "We are separate people and not in any way anatomically attached. As I've said, we simply share a sacred bond," he said coolly, hoping his indifferent attitude would be enough for her to lose interest in exposing his sentiments.

"Yeah, people don't describe their roommates that way."

He stumbled through yet another unconvincing explanation, trying – and failing – to hide his apparently obvious feelings for the Lieutenant. "I care for the Lieutenant, but it is more complicated than what you may imagine. I am not…we are not….," he stuttered frustratingly.

"Why do you call her 'Lieutenant'? Didn't you say she was an agent?"

"Yes, of course. At present. However, she was previously a lieutenant before becoming an agent."

"So why not agent, if that's what she does? 'Lieutenant'? It kind of sounds like a pet name."

"Tis merely an endearment, a display of my regard."

"So…kind of a pet name."

"Miss Mills is no one's 'pet'," he replied firmly, appalled at the insinuation that the Lieutenant was anybody's domesticated possession.

Miss Corinth widened her eyes and held her hands up in surrender, collecting her bag of materials. He rolled his eyes at his severity with her. He had not intended to be so brusque. He huffed and quickly expressed his regret. "I apologize for my tone, Miss Corinth. I did not intend to be ill-mannered. Please forgive me."

"It's fine, Ichabod. I understand," she sighed, uncomfortably shifting her bag on her shoulder.

"No, it was an unacceptable demonstration of deplorable comportment."

She gave him a sad smile and shook her head sympathetically. "You're in love. We all do silly things when we're in love."

He sighed and looked at her in defeat. He must accept it was impossible for him to hide his blossoming feelings toward the Lieutenant, even from Miss Corinth. He did indeed feel as though they were developing into those of love.

What began as a reluctant partnership with Abbie grew into a fondness incomparable to any he had experienced before. From there it grew into a friendship, then into an attraction, and finally into what he was currently experiencing. It was incomparable to that which he experienced in his youth, or even with Katrina. It certainly felt as the modern songs and films described – falling. It was frightening, graceless, and sudden. He had no control over it; however, she was Grace Abigail Mills. She was his partner, his fellow Witness, his colleague, and his closest friend. In many ways, the _only_ true and dearest friend he'd ever had. It terrified him to no end to think about how a romantic relationship with her could endanger their unparalleled partnership and friendship. He could not imagine losing his best friend over his recklessness and inability to provide her with the love she deserved. He had no desire to risk the most precious relationship he'd ever been a part of, but he did not want to live the rest of his fleeting life full of regret. There was also the tablet and its prophecy about them being soul mates, something he had yet to reveal to her. To put it plainly, it was complicated.

He sighed dejectedly. "Tis not that simple," he remarked sullenly.

Miss Corinth shook her head in pity. "Ichabod, love isn't complicated. Either you do or you don't."

He tightly smiled. Of course, Miss Corinth could never understand. There were many things about him and Abbie that she could never know about. It would never be simple for them. Love was full of complications. Their lives were constantly threatened. He couldn't even reveal his true feelings for her to his tutor or any other stranger to their mission. The enemy would prey upon any vulnerability they showed. He could not be her weakness.

He nodded civilly and smiled. "Well, you've left me with much to reflect upon," he replied insincerely.

Miss Corinth's ignorant advice was irksome. She did not understand his frustration. He desired Abbie but short of her approaching him directly and stating that she wanted to have a relationship with him, he couldn't risk their lives for an uncertainty. Even with this in mind, his need, his longing to have her near, to feel her lips upon his own, was too great to ignore.

He led Miss Corinth to the door, stopping at its threshold to bid her farewell. She turned and looked at him with piercing blue eyes. "After you've decided which path to take; or if she decides not to return your feelings, I'll be waiting, Ichabod. I am more than willing to let you try your luck with my heart. Anytime," she breathed. She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek.

He nodded and bowed courteously. He was absolutely certain he could never truly bestow his love upon Miss Corinth, regardless of Abbie's choice. Miss Corinth could never replace her and give him what he wanted, or even what he needed. She was far too naïve, too defenseless. He would not be able to live with himself if he corrupted her idealism of an ordinary world. He half-heartedly waved as she giggled and walked away, stopping every so often to turn around and smile at him. After a while, he entered the house and closed the door.

He was not looking forward to fighting off Miss Corinth's advances from now on. She had taken the first step and she was a perseverant woman. He decided he needed to limit his communications with her as he stared down at his phone. She had already sent him a smiley face emoji with a cheerful wish of sweet dreams. He pocketed his phone without replying and peered up the interminable stairs. He was certainly going to need all the luck in the world if he ever wanted to have sweet dreams again. He was not looking forward to having the long-awaited, tense discussion with Abbie about their relationship. He nervously flexed his hands thinking about the climb ahead of him.

He took the first step up the stairs when, suddenly, she appeared at the top. His jaw dropped open. Her provocative clothing hugged her irresistible curves and accentuated her blessed assets. His pulse quickened as he dedicated her glorious image to memory. His lieutenant was a heavenly vision.

In that moment, regret had never tasted so bitter.

* * *

 ** _*shyly pokes head out* Hi, again. Please don't hate me. I know this chapter was not the Ichabbie you may have been looking for but I promise it was necessary to get to the good stuff. I did not find joy in torturing the characters but I've always been about the character development. I firmly believe we all have to go through the crappy parts of life to appreciate the good ones. Although, given the direction the show is going, it's probably not something you'd like to read, at this moment in time. I just ask for your trust. Ichabbie will happen in this story._**

 ** _Anyway, I'd like to once again thank my beta, krashingkritter, for working miracles with this story. Thank you! You are AMAZING!_**

 ** _And to conclude, leave a review and let me know what you think. I'm hard on myself so your reviews help me see this story for what it is rather than what I make it out to be. They help give me perspective and, in all honesty, I absolutely love reading what you have to say. It just puts a silly smile on my face. :) Thank you!_**

 ** _Your humble fanfic writer with a plan,_**

 ** _semul_**


	10. Chapter 10

Sleep was the last thing on Abigail Mills' mind.

When she left the dining room and retreated to the safety of her bedroom, she considered rolling up into a ball on her bed, pulling the covers over her head, and crying into her pillow for the rest of the night. Her heart was in pain. Nothing new really. There was a reason she kept it under guard and this was just a harsh reminder about how important it was to keep a safe distance from potentially heartbreaking situations.

She needed to learn to temper her expectations. Crane had rejected her once before, it was only logical that he stay consistent. She just refused to see what was in front of her because she didn't want to see. She wanted to believe with every fiber of her being that there was something between them, a small possibility of happiness. It wrenched her insides to come to the realization that she just wasn't what he desired.

She wanted the depression she was feeling to numb her but as she desolately moped about her room, torturing herself by trying not to imagine what her roommate and his tutor were doing downstairs, she glanced up at her reflection in the mirror. What she saw made her stop and curiously eye her reflection.

She felt like she had shattered into a million pieces but the reality was that she was still whole. She studied herself in the mirror. No missing pieces, no physical evidence of the agonizing pain she was feeling, even though her eyes told a different story. She blinked at the unhappy gaze reflecting back at her. That woman wasn't the person she had come to love. She wasn't the one who had survived hell and made it out alive. That sad reflection wasn't the Abbie Mills that never relied on another person to make her feel alive. She clenched her teeth and gazed into her eyes determinedly.

Nobody but herself was responsible for her happiness. She couldn't just wait for somebody to decide if or when to love her; she deserved more than that. She slowly turned to the side and examined her svelte figure. She was whole and she was fine as hell. She was in her prime and her life was too goddamn fleeting to waste pining after an impossibility. She nodded at herself and took a deep breath. _Enough with the self-pity_ , she decided. She needed to move on. She hastily opened up her closet and pulled out the stunning outfit she'd been meaning to wear since cutting off her long locks.

She needed to get out of the house and find some distraction. As she quickly freshened up and changed, she considered going to a club but really didn't feel like fighting off the groping hands of drunk idiots. She thought about calling up some colleagues from the bureau but didn't feel like listening to coworkers bitch about work. So instead, she texted Jenny. Wearing an outfit that made her feel sexy and kicking back a few beers with her sister at the tavern was exactly what she needed. Maybe afterward she could sleepover at Jenny's place. A night away from Crane would help clear her head.

After a few minutes, she was ready. She picked up her cell phone and texted Jenny. Luckily her sister replied back almost immediately. After a few exchanged messages, Abbie made her way to the stairs. She was too distracted by her phone to notice her roommate's still presence at the foot of the stairs.

Ignorant to his immobile state, she scrolled through her messages, deciding what to text back:

hey you working tonight?

yeah what's up?

i need a drink

you ok?

She sighed at the last text. She wanted to tell her sister the truth but a text wouldn't be enough.

She quickly typed, i'll see you in a few

After sending the text, she brushed her hair out of her face and looked up from her phone. Crane stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs, one foot resting on the bottom stair with his hand hovering over the banister. He gaped at her. He looked as petrified as the statues in the Gorgon's underground lair. She raised her eyebrow.

"Crane, you alright?"

He blinked out of his stupor and stammered, "I…y-yes. Yes, of course. You look…eh…"

She looked at him expectantly, noting his nervousness. She'd rarely seen him this flustered around her. Was she imagining things or were his cheeks and ears turning red? She looked at him disconcertedly.

She just hoped it wasn't obvious how much of an effort it took to peel herself away from her room. He still had no clue how she felt or what she had planned to do before her efforts were thwarted by the scene in the dining room. She shook her head, ridding herself of the notion, and tried to casually dismiss her outfit as nothing out of the ordinary.

"Oh, yeah, it's new. Well, had it in the back of the closet for a while. Thought I'd try it out," she shrugged nonchalantly, letting her hand glide down the sleeve of her sheer blouse. She wore a short black mini skirt, her rarely used strappy black stilettos, and a long-sleeved, low cut, burgundy blouse.

Yet, in spite of her current state of flawlessness and the pep talk she gave herself in the mirror, standing like this front of him, she felt like an idiot. How could she not have seen it? It was obvious Crane would be into his tutor. 'Miss Corinth' was exactly his type: quirky, into colonial stuff, and not her. It was a painful truth to accept but it was reality. To Crane, Abbie was just his partner. The person he got stuck with in this futile mission. His friend and current roommate, nothing more.

Although, looking down at his gawping expression, she wondered if she had been a bit hasty in coming to her conclusion. His darkened blue eyes steadily scanned her from the bottoms of her heels, up her smooth legs, over the curves of her body, and up to her tousled hairdo then back down again. He had never so openly studied her before.

If she didn't know any better, she could've sworn that he was checking her out. She knit her brow and slightly pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side. Her profiling training kicked in. She studied his body language to confirm her suspicions. Dilated pupils, slightly open mouth, rapid breathing, flushed skin, and… _whoa, let's keep our eyes forward_ , Abbie admonished herself as she glanced below his waist.

She blinked in realization. He was checking her out. _Impressive_ , she grinned, wordlessly congratulating herself for her ability to elicit some sort of a reaction from him.

The absurdity of the situation was laughable. Here she was trying her best to get over him and there he was finally noticing her. She silently scoffed and held back her mirth. Life had a way of screwing up her plans but it sure as hell didn't mind giving her the chance to appreciate its ironies.

"Crane?" she gently called, teasingly smirking, trying to bring him back from wherever his mind wandered to.

His eyes shot up from where they had been admiring the swell of her hips. Looking a bit horrified with his evident ogling, he closed his eyes as his hands twitched nervously.

"Eh, apologies, Lieutenant. I…y-you look quite…very... _ahem_ ," he spluttered, clearing his throat nervously. He opened his eyes and held her gaze for a moment before murmuring, "You are exquisite."

His complement and intense stare caught her off guard. He'd never complimented her looks before while giving her those bedroom eyes. She unsurely looked down at her outfit and then up at him again. Her eyelashes fluttered nervously. His gaze melted into a tender stare.

This was definitely not the reaction she was expecting. Not that she wasn't enjoying it. She just couldn't handle the sudden switch up. He couldn't kiss other women, compliment her, and then expect her to be at his beck and call. That's not how this was going to work. She wasn't anybody's second choice or side dish, especially his. She had enough of feeling like that when Katrina was around.

She looked away uncomfortably. Speaking of playing second fiddle, she looked past him, where was his tutor?

"Thanks. So where'd Zoe go?" she asked casually.

Crane blinked at her a moment, as if forgetting who she was talking about. This was definitely unexpected. With his often bragged about eidetic memory, she rarely had to prompt him to remember things. It appeared her outfit not only had the power to draw out compliments but to give temporary amnesia. She smirked. She should have worn this ages ago.

When the name finally processed, he closed his eyes in realization. "Ah, yes, Miss Corinth. She…she returned to her home," he stammered.

"Oh, I hope I didn't interrupt something..."

"No. No. No, of course not."

She nodded expectantly at him. He nervously rested his hands behind his back, briefly avoiding eye contact with her. She looked away as an awkward silence fell over them.

"So, um, I'm just gonna…," she said, motioning toward the stairs and at where he stood blocking the bottom step.

He snapped out of his reverie. "Oh, are you in need of assistance?" he offered eagerly, ready to bound up the stairs to help her.

Abbie held out her hand and flashed a smile, quickly replying, "No! No, I got this. I just…you're blocking the stairs, Crane."

"Oh, of course! Yes, apologies," he said backing away, eyeing her nervously. Before stepping off the stairway, he looked up at her hesitantly once more. "Are you certain you are not in need of assistance?" he offered again, ready to take another step up.

"I got this," she reassured him, carefully making her way down the stairs, keeping a firm hold on the banister. He backed off the steps and silently stared as she slowly descended. She felt like she was in a 90's movie making her way to the gallant protagonist. All that was missing was the cheesy rom-com music in the background. It was extremely awkward so she forced herself to start up a conversation midflight.

"So, how'd the studying go?" she asked casually, keeping her focus on the steps in front of her, regretting not putting on her heels on later. When he didn't immediately respond, she glanced up through her eyelashes to see him staring at her legs.

He distractedly hummed before quickly responding, "Hmm? Oh, it went well."

Abbie glanced out of the side of her eye in frustration. Of course Mr. Always Proper wasn't going to admit to making out with his tutor. She really didn't want to have this conversation but she needed to tell him what she saw.

For one, because she never wanted to experience a repeat. And two, because she needed to move on. Saying it out loud, recognizing it for what it was, would help her come to terms with the reality of the situation. It didn't help that he was denying it. She needed him to admit it.

Swallowing back her irritation, she teasingly prodded, "Oh yeah? Only 'well'?"

He stopped gawping her and suspiciously looked into her eyes. Uneasily, he carefully replied, "Yes, only well. Why do you ask?"

Abbie shrugged as she lowered her eyes, making her way to the last step. She truly didn't care for details, she'd fall to pieces if he told her how magical it was, but she needed to let him know that his face sucking session didn't go unnoticed.

As she approached the last step, Crane held out his hand with the gentle bow of his head. She looked at the top of his shaggy hair, taken aback by his chivalry. _God, why did he have to do this?_ she thought. She wanted to hate him. She wanted to stop feeling this overwhelming desire to make him hers. Why couldn't he just make this easy?

She took a deep breath and gave him her hand. It nearly disappeared in his as his long fingers gently folded around it. She stepped off the stairs and came toe to toe with him. He held her hand near his bowed head. He peered up at her as pieces of his hair fell over his brow. She gazed into his intense blue eyes before slipping her hand out of his grasp and looking away. Her heart beat wildly. How is it that he had this ability to make her lose control? It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

She cleared her throat as he straightened up. Even with her stilettos she was still several inches shorter than him. She barely came up to his chin. As he loomed over her, mere inches between them, a fleeting thought of spilling her guts to him came over her. What if she told him that she had chosen him? Would he still reject her? Would he want her? But just as quickly as the thought came, it disappeared. She smiled tightly and walked around him to the hallway closet to find her coat.

She called behind her, "Zoe seems really nice. It's generous of her to offer to help you with your citizenship stuff. Are you planning to do something to repay her?"

Crane slowly strolled behind her, his hands folded behind his back, and knit his brow. "I don't follow."

Abbie took a breath and stopped in front of the closet. She needed to control herself and not reveal her heartbreak. She flashed a smile at him and opened the closet, reaching for her short trench coat. She falsely chirped, "Well, I'm pretty sure a few kisses here and there aren't going to be enough to express your appreciation."

She could hear a falter in his steps. "Sorry?"

She glanced at him as she slipped into her coat. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn there was terror in his eyes. She buttoned up her buttons and carefully muttered, "I may have walked in on you guys doing your…thing."

He took in a sharp breath. She quickly glanced up at him again. His looked stunned to say the least. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead tightly smiled. He stuttered, "Y-you witnessed that? Lieutenant, I did not intend to…"

She grinned sardonically and waved it off as she searched for the handbag that matched her coat in the next room. Her mission was accomplished. She just wanted him to admit to it and know that she knew. She didn't need the details. She didn't need clarification.

She quickly cut him off, not wanting to hear his explanation. "Hey, there's no need for you to explain. And good for you. She's a good one," she congratulated him, walking into the living room.

He stalked after her. "No, Lieutenant, you must allow me explain. T'was not as it seemed. She kissed me," he hastily defended.

She widened her eyes as she slowly picked up her handbag. _Oh, God, here come the details_ , she thought, frantically trying to think of a subtle way of putting an end to the conversation. "Oh, well, good for her then," she said simply, patting his arm and quickly sidestepping him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and waved his hands. "No, you misunderstand, I had no _desire_ to kiss her," he further explained, trailing after her.

She paused in the middle of the hallway as she tightened the belt around her coat. She tilted her head toward him and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Outraged at the silent insinuation, he shut his mouth firmly and widened his eyes. He held up his finger. "She did not force herself upon me..."

She huffed tiredly. "You keep on trying to explain, Crane, but you really don't have to. It's okay. It really is."

She continued walking, heading for the door as quickly as her stilettos would let her. As she reached for the door handle, he spoke the last words she needed to hear in that moment.

"It was unlike our moment in the cabin, if that is what you were implying," he said gently, stopping her in her tracks.

She was dumbfounded. After all these months, after everything, he finally decided to bring it up. She shook her head and scoffed. Clearly he lacked the ability to live in denial. It really shouldn't have been surprising considering his past: the man was incapable of tact. Leave it to Ichabod Crane to destroy all the efforts she had made to move past that moment, to let him off the hook. She took a deep breath. If he wanted to open that can of worms, so be it.

She lowered her hand from the doorknob. She rubbed the inside of her cheek with her tongue and turned to him unimpressed. "Really? You gonna bring that up now?"

He nodded firmly and held his twitchy hands at his sides. "Tis time we face our past. We have avoided this conversation for far too long."

"Yeah? Alright," she sniffed defensively. Before she could stop herself, all the resentments she had been holding back for the past year came flooding out like water through a broken dam. Everything she had thought she had forgiven and put behind her came rushing out before she could stop it.

"And what conversation did you want to have, Crane, hmm?" she asked defensively, taking few menacing steps toward him, "The one about you blaming me for your wife and son's death? Or how about the one where you disappeared for nine months with a single goddamn word? Or maybe you just wanted to focus on that unforgettable moment where I practically jumped your bones when you were at your most vulnerable?"

He resignedly closed his eyes before explaining, "I understand that I…'screwed up'. I should have never placed the blame upon you for Katrina and Henry's death. It was inexcusable. They made their choices and they were solely responsible for their own deaths. As for leaving, I can never express to you how ashamed I am of my thoughtless actions. T'was cowardly and dishonorable. I can only ask for your forgiveness in that matter."

Before continuing, he held up his finger and widened his eyes. "Nevertheless, our moment, the intimacy we shared, was far more profound than what you described," he said solemnly, lowering his finger and taking a step toward her.

She looked at him disbelievingly. "Intimacy? Profound? God, Crane, all that was missing was you vomiting in my face to really sum up that night," she scoffed, folding her arms.

He raised his eyebrow. "From what I recall, our _profoundly intimate moment_ was hindered by _my_ inability to accept in good conscience what you had so generously offered," he clarified.

"Woah, wait. Offered?" she scoffed as he nodded. She had no idea how he could make drunk fumbling sound like an intentional romantic gesture. Sure, they had shared a moment but it certainly wasn't anything she had intentionally planned. She needed to set things straight.

"Crane, you were drunk and I wasn't in a very good place. You were still mourning the loss of your family and I was just feeling sorry for myself. It was the heat of the moment. A mistake," she coolly explained.

He looked at her stoically. She'd never reduced him to silence before. She hoped it was enough to end the conversation. She looked at him skeptically waiting for him to apologize or uncomfortably dismiss the conversation.

After a moment, he simply said, "No."

"No?"

"T'was not a mistake," he said easily, taking another step toward her until he was standing right in front of her.

His closeness was unnerving. She could feel the heat radiate off his body. She could smell the detergent he used on his clothes. All her senses were on high alert. Her fingers twitched in their sudden urge to run up and down his firm abdomen. She sneered uncomfortably, trying her best to deny her temptations, and took a discreet step back toward the door.

She lowered her gaze and said dismissively, "Yeah, it was a mistake. I tried kissing you and you weren't having it. At least one of us was in their right minds that night."

"Lieutenant…"

She held up her hand. She didn't want to hear anymore. The more he explained, the more sense it made. And, frankly, she was starting to feel overwhelmed. Sure, she had felt ready to start a relationship with Crane mere moments ago but, now, the reality was setting in. She wasn't ready. She hadn't thought it through. She was impulsively thinking when she had made her decision earlier that night.

She remembered that she didn't want to risk their partnership, their friendship. Crane was too important to her to screw him up with all her nonsense. Because she would. She would end up shutting him out. She would end up blaming him. She'd end up hurting him. She couldn't bear to think how she would destroy him and how he would end up resenting her, hating her, pitying her like he did with Katrina. She needed to end this now.

"Listen, Crane, I really, _really_ don't want to talk about this right now, alright? I gotta go," she said tiredly, unfolding her arms and reaching for the doorknob.

Just as she opened it slightly, he leaned his hand against the door and shut it. She looked up at him incredulously. Was he actually trying to prevent her from leaving her own house? She blinked at him disbelievingly.

"You're kidding me, right?"

He took a step closer until they were practically sharing the same breath. He looked at her challengingly and lowered his voice. His deep rumble sent shivers up her spine. "I understand your reluctance to discuss that particular affair. However, it transpired and it was undoubtedly profound. I wanted to kiss you then and I want to kiss you now, Grace Abigail Mills. Nothing, not even you, shall convince me otherwise."

She swallowed nervously. He continued gazing at her intensely. Pretending to be unaffected, she looked away and folded her arms once more. She needed to stay strong. If the reasons she had just laid out in her head weren't enough, she needed to focus on his flaws. _Yes, his flaws. His flaws. He had plenty of those_ , she reasoned, struggling to come up with any at the moment.

 _Oh! Of course,_ she recalled. She had just caught him kissing another woman. He destroyed her motivation to initiate a relationship with him. She couldn't accept such a flawed man, especially when he hadn't put enough effort into proving to her that he was worthy of her affections. _Yes, good reason,_ she reassured herself.

A very good reason to stay away from him. An extremely good reason to leave the house, right now. If she didn't leave this very moment, she'd unquestionably do something she'd regret in the long run. An overwhelming need to escape came over her.

As if reading her mind, he graciously opened the door, bowing, and gallantly gesturing out. "The evening awaits you, my lady," he murmured.

She glanced up at him. He kept his head bowed, not daring to look at her. She couldn't tell if he was being sincere or sarcastic. Either way, his tousled hair, his luscious pink lips surrounded by his thick beard, his lightly tanned skin, and those sinfully long fingers tormented her. All her pent up frustrations, the need to make him hers and only hers, the need to stay true to herself, clutched at her heart. Why did it all have to get so muddled?

She clenched her jaw. _Stay strong, Abbie, stay strong,_ she repeated to herself. She took a deep breath and quickly walked out the door. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked down the porch steps and into her car. Good thing it was dark outside because she could feel the heat rise up to her face. It was never obvious when she blushed but right now she could feel the red emanating off not only her cheeks but other parts of her body she didn't know were capable of turning red.

Oh she was definitely going to need more than a few beers to make it through tonight.

* * *

Jenny gazed at her sister sitting at the bar. She could always tell when Abbie was feeling overwhelmed. And, right now, Abbie was overwhelmed.

She could tell the instant her sister walked in that things were becoming messy, muddled. Abbie could no longer separate everything and keep it all balanced in their neat little categories. Her work life, her personal life, and the Witness life were overlapping. Everything was a push away from crumbling into a heap of chaos. Her control freak of a sister was losing control.

So she did what any sister would do, she ignored Abbie's request for a beer and set down six shots of tequila, three for her and three for her sister. Mike didn't mind. Well, more like what her boss didn't know, didn't hurt him. By the third shot, Abbie had finished telling her about her awkward encounter with Crane.

"So he wanted to kiss you?"

"Yeah."

"And he still wants to?"

Abbie sighed and confirmed it with the raise of her eyebrows, as she toyed with the corner of her napkin.

Jenny leaned against the opposite side of the bar, prodding her to go on. When she didn't, she huffed impatiently, desperate to know what happened, "So did you?"

She looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "What? God, no. He literally just finished sucking the face off his tutor. I couldn't just…get in line," she described uneasily, brushing her hand to the side.

Jenny frowned pensively, as she filled a bowl with mini pretzels. "Sounds like there was nobody else in line until you let somebody cut in front of you."

Abbie winced. "You make it sound like some sort of carnival ride."

"Well, I'm pretty sure he'd probably ride like one, especially after all the years of foreplay…" she teased, raising her hand to her mouth in mock shame for saying something so crude. She jokingly corrected herself, "Sorry, I meant years of bantering."

Her sister rolled her eyes disbelievingly, holding back a smirk. "Do you always have to make everything sound so dirty?"

Jenny shrugged as she arranged a few drinks on her tray. "It's the truth."

She left her sister to think as she went to serve the drinks to customers sitting at the tables. When she returned, she set down her tray and looked at her expectantly.

Abbie glanced at her and shook her head. She slid her forefingers along the rim of her empty shot glass. She sighed heavily. "I just don't know anymore," she murmured, picking the conversation back up.

"Of course you do," grinned Jenny.

Her sister looked up at her skeptically.

"Go home, run into that man's scrawny arms, and say, 'Captain, my Captain, take me, I'm ready.' You know, the whole romantic novel thing," she said flippantly as she poured a drink for another customer.

Abbie widened her eyes and sarcastically replied, "Yeah, because that's how reality works."

Jenny scoffed. She leaned in close to her sister and smirked. She lowered her voice and raised her eyebrow, "You want real? Go home, get naked, stand in front of him, and wait. Once his brain stops short-circuiting, you'll be going at it like deprived rabbits."

Abbie looked at her as if she doubted sharing any DNA with her. "Jesus, Jenny. How twisted can you get?" she said admonishingly.

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Come on. Don't blame me. I'm just getting tired of all the back and forth. You want him, then have him. It's as simple as that. Screw all the rest."

"Oh yeah? That simple?"

"Trust me, Abs. I know you. When you want something, it's yours, end of story. And you want him."

Her sister scrunched her eyes closed and scratched the back of her head in frustration. She opened her eyes and stared at her sister determinedly. "I just…I just want things to be simple again. Work is work, home is home, and the mission is the mission," she said, gesturing the separation of each category with her hands.

Jenny picked at the chipped wood on the bar and shook her head. Her experience reminded her that life was never that reasonable. Something would always come back to bite her in the ass. She sighed, "Things never stay that simple."

Resigned, Abbie nodded. "Yeah."

Jenny knit her brow. "Then why are you trying to force it?"

Her sister looked at her without conviction. "What else can I do?"

She shrugged as she filled up a couple of mugs of beer. "I don't know. Figure it out. Not knowing something never stopped you before. Why let it stop you now?"

Jenny left her sister to ponder. She served some more drinks and picked up empty bottles and mugs. When she returned a few minutes later, Abbie gave her a small smile.

"What?" asked Jenny unsurely as she threw away the empty bottles and washed a few glasses.

Her sister smiled at her for a moment. She looked down at the empty shot glass. "I never got to thank you," she murmured.

"For what?" asked Jenny, wiping her hands dry with a towel.

Abbie held out a shrug. "I don't know. For everything. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Jenny smirked as she flipped the towel over her shoulder. "Don't get me used to all these compliments. I'll start filling you up with tequila more often."

Her sister shook her head and smiled gently. "I just thought you should know."

She shrugged nonchalantly, appreciating her sister's praise, and replied, "Yeah, well, I guess you're alright, too."

Abbie grinned.

If only Jenny had known that this was the last time she would get a chance to spend a night out with her sister. She would have made it count. But instead of talking about the important stuff, they talked about mundane things, basically anything to avoid talking about Crane. Abbie asked her about Joe. Jenny asked about any upcoming cases at work. They reminisced a little. They talked about their short-term plans for the future. Abbie went up to sing karaoke a couple of times. Jenny introduced her to some of the patrons. They ended the night with a few new phone numbers and a couple of fond memories.

If Jenny would have known about the whirlwind that was about to come, she would have told Abbie to forgive herself, once and for all. She wasn't to blame for what happened to mama. She had no control over what happened to her throughout the whole Moloch thing. Their father didn't leave them because of her. Crane rejecting and leaving her for nine months wasn't her fault.

She should have told her to let things go, to stop punishing herself. She didn't need to sacrifice anything anymore. Her slate was clean. She should have said all these things to her but she didn't.

Yes, if Jenny knew she was going to lose her sister, she would have definitely done things differently.

* * *

 ** _Long time no see, eh? Sorry about the delay but here it is! I really hope you liked it._**

 ** _So I've decided to take this story and use it to fill in gaps again. That mid-season finale had me feeling all sorts of things and knowing the show's propensity for skipping over details, I'm going to be picking up where the show left off in the next chapter. I'm super excited! All the lovely angst to work with...mmm, so good._**

 ** _Shout out to my beta, krashingkritter, who I hope will soon be rejoining me in developing this story. I missed having your input and revisions on this one._**

 ** _And, as always, leave a review if you'd like. I love the feedback! How'd you like the chapter? How'd you like the mid-season finale? Are feeling any Ichabbie vibes from the show? Are you as hopeful as I am that they'll finally start making it more obvious during the second half of the season? Please, oh please, make it so. ;)_**

 ** _Your humble bumbling writer,_**

 ** _semul_**


	11. Chapter 11

**_A continuation from Episode 8, Novus Ordo Seclorum..._**

* * *

"Abbie," he whispered as he fell to his hands and knees, feeling as if the air had been knocked out of him.

Ichabod stared at the blackened tree in disbelief. There was no sign of her. Not a trace. She had walked into its abruptly open trunk only to have the energy contained within the shard disperse violently as the tree swallowed her whole. Did she survive? He did not know. His wrists gave out beneath him as he fell to his side.

Abbie was gone.

His insides battled within him as he fought back the urge to vomit. He drew in a shuddering breath. She had sacrificed herself. He was too late.

Gaping at the lifeless tree in terror, he searched determinedly for an opening, any sign assuring him that she was unharmed. Nothing. His vision blurred. He blinked furiously as he tried to swallow the knot that had formed in his throat but only managed a nearly inaudible gasp.

Unaware of how much time had passed, he heard a voice call out to him, piercing through the ringing in his ears.

"Crane!"

He slowly turned to the voice, his expression frozen in one of absolute incredulity.

"Crane, we need to get her out of here. Help me get these things off," croaked out Joe, holding his side and wincing in pain, his other hand hovering over the branches restraining Jenny.

He nodded as if in a trance. He turned to look at the tree once more. His mind could not accept the events that had just transpired. Any moment now, Abbie would appear and he would hold her in his arms whispering her name into her hair, laying kisses upon her head, thanking God for returning her to him. He would forbid her from ever recklessly sacrificing herself again. Then he would tell her over and over just how much he loved her, how much he couldn't bear to live without her. He willed these thoughts with all of his heart yet the tree remained deathly still.

As he backed away in dismay, slowly staggering down the stairs in a daze, a thought came to the forefront of his memory: the fate of Paul Revere's young nephew, Jonathon. The energy of the Eye had dispersed with its destructive force and no trace was ever found of him. He had dissipated into nothingness. Revere's forewarning resounded in his memory: _Don't let anyone in too close. When you lose them, it'll break you._

His legs gave out beneath him.

Joe looked up at him concerned. Ichabod blinked, taken aback by his sudden weakness. He upbraided himself. This was certainly not the first time he had lost someone, he was only too familiar with the casualties of war and their mission. He must collect his wits, Joe and Jenny needed him.

He sharply inhaled before his breath unexpectedly escaped him in the form of an anguished gasp. He knit his brow. His body's reactions were out of his control. It was as if his ability to recover from hardship had suddenly vanished.

Closing his eyes to gain a sense of composure, he held out a reassuring hand to Joe. "I'm fine. Tis fine," he mumbled absent-mindedly, striving to push himself up.

 _His friends needed him. He needed to…_ , his thoughts muddled together as everything spun around him. He struggled to stand, his legs too weak to bear his weight. He reached out to the cave wall for support as he slid down it, falling once again. This time his mind and body stilled.

It was near impossible to draw breath. The truth stood in front of him yet he refused to acknowledge it. She could not be dead. Not her. Not his partner, his friend, the woman he loved. Abbie Mills, the strongest person he had ever known, whose very soul was intended for him, whose destiny was entwined with his since the beginning of time, could not be gone. He rubbed his hand over his face as a moan of pain escaped his chest. Squeezing his eyes shut, he cupped his hand over his mouth, his blood pounded in his ears.

He whispered, muffling his implorations, "No, no, no..."

Not his Abbie Mills. Their future was foretold. She could not be so callously taken. Their mission was not over. She must be at his side and he at hers until death came to claim them both.

His eyes pricked with an unwelcome heat. _Come what may._ If he had known what was to await them, he would have never agreed to it. He had led her to slaughter once again, only this time, he'd completed the task.

Tears streamed silently down his face as he hugged his other arm across his middle. Pain emanated from his chest and spread throughout his body. He felt empty as he shuddered in agony. A firm hand shook his shoulder.

"Crane, we need to go. Come on, man."

He kept his eyes closed as he shook his head silently. He did not care that he was conducting himself as an obstinate child would. The anguish deriving from what remained of his heart was too much to bear.

"Crane, hey. Hey, I need you to look at me, man. Crane," firmly coaxed Corbin, shaking his shoulders.

Ichabod peered up at him as he choked back sobs. He gazed into his fellow soldier's face and the nearly nonexistent pride within him set a bridle upon his urge to weep aloud. He could not allow himself to break. Not here. Not in front of him. Not just yet.

Joe widened his eyes, attempting to get through to him. "Listen to me, we have to go. They might come back and we need to get Jenny out of here. Come on, I need your help," he insisted.

Ichabod blinked at him through his tears. He could see it in his eyes; the fear. Although Master Corbin was familiar with the atrocities of war, he was unfamiliar with the unexpected, swift cruelty their supernatural mission brought. Hence, the fear. Nevertheless, he could perceive his soldier's resolve, that strength to endure, cast aside his fear for the sake of the needs of others. Ichabod understood that resolve. It was what had allowed him to endure the sheer terror of awaking to this time. It was what he needed to summon to survive this tragedy.

He swallowed his sobs and nodded firmly. Joe helped him up, steadying him into a standing position. Once steady, Ichabod waved him off. He must find his strength. He still had a mission to complete. Damn his crippling emotions. Damn his broken heart.

They warily began walking down the remaining steps. He stumbled on the rubble but Corbin was there to steady him. As they reached the last step, Ichabod tasted something sour in his mouth. His insides were too weak to contain anything in his stomach. He staggered forward and ran to the nearest cave wall. He rest his hand on its rocky surface as he expelled the contents of his stomach out his mouth.

Once his stomach had emptied, he continued gagging as his thoughts turned to the painful truth he could not accept; he was alone. It was not the same feeling as when Katrina and Henry had died. It was not as when he had left for nine months. It was unlike any of it.

The numbness, pity, and guilt that surrounded his wife and son's death were nowhere in sight. This time he felt every bit of pain and loss. Nothing was numb, there was no pity, and the guilt drowned him. He was fully aware of his torture. The tears from his eyes would not cease from falling. They mixed with the puddle of vomit and dirt on the floor.

After a few moments, he found his resolve once again. He roughly wiped his mouth with the back of his shaking wrist. Hastily rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, he stumbled toward Joe and Jenny. He sniffed at the mucus running from his nose, wiping the rest away with his arm. He winced as the pain from his bruised ribs reminded him to keep his arm protectively at his side. He knit his brow and squinted through his tear swollen eyes at the motionless Miss Jenny. He must do as he was told. He must take care of her.

He began mindlessly tearing at the branches still restraining her arms and legs. Once she was free, he and Corbin maneuvered her unconscious body between them holding her arms over their shoulders and standing her up with their arms around her waist. They gathered what was left of their gear and carried her out of the lair. Her feet dragged as they slowly winced their way to Abbie's vehicle and gently laid her in the backseat.

Once she was secured in the seat, Ichabod turned back in the direction of the lair. They couldn't leave without her.

"I must return..." he mumbled, walking toward the trees, his mind too far gone to make sense of his actions.

Corbin shut the doors of Abbie's car and called after him, "Crane, we need to go. Those explosions were probably heard across town. The cops are going to show up any minute."

Ichabod paused and turned his head slightly. Logic tried to reason with him. Master Corbin was right. They mustn't be there when the authorities arrived. Too many questions and not enough answers. Yet, the remnants of his heart and soul pleaded with him to return. To wait. To hope.

He took a deep breath and blinked slowly. He wanted to listen to reason but his thoughts were too turbid for him to think clearly. "I-I cannot leave her behind," he said decidedly before resuming his path.

A police siren could be heard in the distance.

Losing patience, Corbin raised his voice, "Crane, we can't…she…Abbie's gone. We need to get the hell out of here."

He disregarded his admonition as he continued walking toward the trees. "She cannot be...she is not..," he muttered, adamantly denying the truth. She could reappear. She could still be alive. They could not leave.

"Crane," shouted Joe edgily.

Ichabod clenched his hands into fists. The rage building inside of him became too much to contain. _Why couldn't he understand that they could not leave?How could he be so stupid,_ he thought angrily. He fists shook as he could no longer restrain his fury.

"I will not leave her behind!" he bellowed furiously, sharply turning to glare at him, the echo of his shout reverberating throughout the trees. He clenched his jaw and took in a shuttering breath. His shoulders heaved. His eyes wild, he stared Corbin down. He must have appeared to be a raving mad man with his clothes and hair in disarray, red-rimmed eyes, vomit on his boots, and dust covering his clothing.

Then as quickly as his anger came, it disappeared. He was suddenly overcome with sadness and denial. The knot in his throat threatened to unravel into cries of anguish. He swallowed thickly and held up his finger with his eyes wide, his chin trembling and chest heaving.

"I will not leave her behind," he choked out softly, a tear escaping his eye.

Joe blinked at him in apprehension. He licked his lips nervously and slowly raised his hands in surrender. "Alright. We'll go back then. I'll be right behind you."

Crane nodded and turned to walk back to the lair, ready to wait by the tree in hopes that it would open once more either to return her to him or to swallow him into its depths.

Suddenly, Joe's arm was around his neck and he couldn't breathe. He choked out a whimper of surprise. He clawed at his arm as he fell to his knees. His body jerked in an attempt to escape. His lungs burned. Everything was fading into black. He heard a muffled, "I'm sorry, Crane. We can't go back."

One last image appeared before him of Abbie's sorrowful eyes, searing her pain into his soul. Then the world faded into nothingness.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Hours later, Ichabod awoke to find himself buckled in the front seat of Abbie's car. For a moment, he thought he had dozed off on one of the many road trips he and Abbie had taken. He winced as he felt a sharp pain in his ribs. He grimaced at the putrid taste in his mouth. He groaned. _No, this was no road trip._

He closed his eyes and rested his pounding head against the seat. He sighed in defeat. Abbie was gone. He was alone. His chest ached. It was difficult to swallow. As much as he desired to disappear from existence, he couldn't stay there forever. Reluctantly, he squeezed his eyelids closed once more before opening his stinging eyes to his darkened surroundings. It was the middle of the night and he was outside the cabin that was once his dwelling.

He grunted as he hastily unbuckled himself and shoved the car door open. He stumbled out, his legs too weak to support his full standing weight. He fell to his hands and knees. He breathed unsteadily. What was the point in continuing? His sense of hopelessness nearly overtook him but then a sudden realization came over him: Corbin choked him unconscious. He made him leave her behind. His breath became shallow. He looked up at the cabin, a single light glowed from within the window. He glared. He wasn't certain why he was enraged, he solely knew that Corbin was going to experience his full wrath.

He staggered to his feet and made his way to the cabin door. He threw it open, wildly scanning the inside of the cabin with his bloodshot eyes. Joe looked up at him startled. He had just come from the bedroom, shutting the door behind him, a medical kit in hand. Crane narrowed his eyes and crossed the room in a few angry strides. Corbin dropped the bag and held up his arms protectively.

He began hastily explaining, "Crane, I had to do it. I..."

Ichabod angrily grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and violently shoved him against the door, ignoring the shooting pain in his side. Joe laid his hands over Ichabod's clenched fists as his body loudly struck against the door.

"How dare you?!" he shouted, his voice breaking. Joe's chest heaved as he looked up at him in surprise. Logic tried to reason with Ichabod. It was not Joe's fault. Yet he paid no heed to his rationality as he shakily drew in a breath. His need to blame someone was too strong to resist.

"How dare you?!" he repeated, tears filling his eyes, as he shoved him against the door again.

Joe's Adam's apple bobbed uneasily, "I had to get you out of there. If the cops would have seen us..."

"Abbie!" he cried out, tears rolling down his cheeks as he struggled to take in a breath. "You abandoned her!"

Joe sadly gazed at him. He shook his head gently, his chest still heaving, "She's gone, Crane. There was nothing left," he stated bluntly.

Ichabod's rage grew. "No!" he roared, shoving him violently away from him, releasing his grip on his shirt. He did not want to hear those words. He refused to accept it.

Joe stumbled back into the door once again. After a moment, he caught his breath and blinked at him desolately. He shook his head and closed his eyes.

"She couldn't have survived that blast and you know it," he panted quietly.

Ichabod shook his head in denial, roughly wiping the tears from his face. "She..." he whimpered. "She cannot be dead."

Corbin sighed. He looked up at him, attempting to explain, "Trust me, I know that's what you want to believe. Hell, with all the weird shit that goes on with you guys, it would make sense. But you saw what happened. She's gone. Abbie's gone, Crane."

Ichabod backed away and waved his hand dismissively, refusing to continue to listen to him. "No, no. We...we are not finished. Our mission is incomplete," he rationalized through clenched teeth.

Joe looked at him sympathetically. He sighed as his eyes filled with tears. "I know. I know, man. I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking.

Ichabod widened his watery eyes and raised a trembling finger up. "No," he whimpered. "She is not dead. She is NOT dead."

Tears fell from Joe's eyes. "I'm so sorry," he breathed sadly.

"No!" shouted Ichabod.

He took in a sharp, painful breath and cupped his hand over his mouth. The room spun. He stumbled out the door and down the steps. Memories of her filled his mind. Her smile, her laughter, her intense gaze, her stoic presence, her embraces, the way she would say his name. All of it was no more.

A frantic energy burst from inside him. He stumbled toward the edge of the lake. He tripped and fell to his knees. Too weak to rise, he dug his fingers into the soil, clenching fistfuls of it in his shaking hands. He squeezed his eyes closed. A feeling deep in his stomach worked itself up his body until it reached his throat. He growled and let out a painful, broken howl. He moaned until his throat was raw. When it became too painful to make another sound, he fell to his side, trembling.

His worst fear had come true. Grace Abigail Mills was dead.

* * *

 _What the hell?_

Abbie's eyelashes fluttered in disbelief, taking in her familiar surroundings.

Literally, two seconds ago she was walking into a tree with her hands full of glowing shard, moments from going nuclear, and now she was stumbling through the doorway of her house.

She looked behind her. Nothing but blue skies, birds chirping, and cheery neighborhood noises in the background. She slowly walked backwards through the doorway again. Was she dreaming? Could this all be a dream? Doubt filled her mind as she heard the sound of her boots hitting her very ordinary, very real porch. A cool breeze caressed her skin. _No, this felt too real._ She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. _How was this even possible?_

She warily walked back into her house, closing the door behind her. Everything was clean and tidy, basically the same as she'd left it this morning with a few additions here and there yet something was off. She looked down. Different outfit. Different shoes but she was still herself. Except... _what the hell was that_?

A gold band gleamed on her ring finger. She brought it closer to her face to inspect. She blinked at it before hastily trying to remove it. It took a few good tugs before it came off, leaving behind a thin pale line as if she'd been wearing it for a while.

She held the ring carefully, rotating it in her fingers. How could she have been wearing it long enough to leave a tan line if this was the first time she'd seen it? A strange symbol was etched into the inside of it. Her nose crinkled as she tried to make out the design.

"Abbie?"

She hastily pocketed the ring intending to study the symbol later. She looked up with an unassuming expression on her face. Her brow crinkled in bewilderment. "Crane?"

This was not the Crane she had left standing in frozen disbelief moments ago. This Crane had a strange goatee and shorter hair. And was that a cardigan and slacks? He smirked and gave her a look as if he intended to devour her whole. She frowned. Yes, this was definitely not the same person she left behind. She narrowed her eyes distrustfully while he raised his eyebrow.

"Oh, are we...? Well then, beg pardon, _'Lieutenant'_ ," he rumbled, her former title rolling off his tongue seductively.

He slowly stalked toward her, the echo of his shoes setting her nerves on edge. She could tell by his determined walk, he knew exactly what he wanted. Realization came over her and her body tensed. Goosebumps crawled up her arms and neck. She drew in a shuddering breath. His intense blue eyes raked over her unashamedly, his gaze pausing at her ample chest. He licked his bottom lip before catching it between his teeth as he stared. Her eyes widened. She felt a sudden urge to modestly pinch the collar of her shirt together. This was... _wrong_? Or was it right? Okay, better said, she wasn't sure. What she did know for sure was that this man was not the Crane she knew.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when he stood toe to toe with her giving her an unfamiliar, positively sinful look of pure desire. He aggressively pulled her toward him with one arm before she could react. She grunted as she slammed into his very firm and surprisingly strong body. He hummed as his eyelids fluttered closed and he leaned in for a kiss.

"Mmm, _Lieutenant_..."

"Oh! Woah! Hey now," she exclaimed, snapping out of her daze in the nick of time, smashing his lips with the palm of her hand, ducking out of his arms.

Her world, everything, she knew was gone. This wasn't Crane. This wasn't her home. She needed to assert some sort of self-control, as difficult as it was proving to be. Her priority needed to be to figure out what the hell was going on.

"Mmff...," he grumbled against her small hand as she placed some distance between them, reluctantly releasing her from his hold.

Abbie furrowed her brow and blinked at him. Her chest heaved as she held up a finger at him, her other hand on the doorknob behind her. Judging by the smolder on this Crane's face, she may actually need to rely on her sprinting ability or close quarter combat skills to get him to calm the hell down.

"Mmm, you want to play rough then?" he purred, stalking once again toward her.

Her eyes widened. "The hell…?" she whispered under her breath. This Crane could not take a clue. Before he could lay his hands on her, she maneuvered herself around him, grabbing one arm and twisting the other behind his back, immobilizing him. She shoved him against the door, his body roughly thudding against it, hers pressing him still.

"Ouch, okay. I...I'm unfamiliar with this one," he mumbled confused but with a hint of delight. "What role playing activity is this?"

She knit her brow as she kept a firm hold of him against the door. "Role playing? What the hell are you talking about?" she asked bewildered.

"Your jacket? Boots? I have not had the pleasure of seeing you in that _tempting_ attire in years," he said breathlessly, glancing down at her through the side of his eye. He grinned.

"Years?" she questioned. _What did he mean years?_

He grunted uncomfortably. "As much as I would love to continue this, dearest, I'm afraid I must ask you to release me. These types of activities are more suitable behind our bedroom door and perhaps not in broad daylight."

Her mouth dropped open. He thought she was putting the moves on him. Appalled, she attempted to explain, "I'm not…"

Crane raised his eyebrows, and glanced down at her body pressing against his back. She quickly released him and placed enough space between them that if he tried that again she could knock his ass down. She brushed at her shirt and eyed him distrustfully, trying to gain some composure.

He pushed away from the door and rubbed his arm. He playfully smiled at her. When she didn't return the smile, his face fell slightly. "Are you feeling well, my love?"

She raised her eyebrows incredulously. "My what now?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Love?"

Scoffing, she looked him up and down. Yeah, no way in hell would she ever let her Crane ever call her that, she'd never allow herself to be called by a recycled pet name. This was definitely not her world.

"Pfft, what's going on here?" she demanded, ignoring her need to correct him.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at her unsurely, baffled by her demeanor. "Is there something the matter?" he asked cautiously.

She widened her eyes and sarcastically replied, "Yeah, you could say that."

Panic filled his eyes. He seemed to go through a list of possible things that could be bothering her. He carefully asked, "To what do you refer?"

She blinked at him and tilted her head. "To what do I refer? Mmm, let's see, how 'bout everything," she retorted. She looked around the house disconcertedly. "Where are we? _When_ are we?"

Crane looked out of sorts. He did not know how to respond to her unexpected questions. He simply replied, "I do not understand."

Abbie laughed incredulously. Of course he didn't understand. This man, whom she assumed she was married to, had no idea what was going on. For all he knew, this was reality, not some alternate time portal thing. She closed her eyes and shook her head, grinning disbelievingly.

"This...this is all wrong. You are not you and this is not real. It can't be real," she muttered to herself, opening her eyes to look at him, motioning toward him with open hands.

He looked at her questioningly. She lowered her hands to her sides and avoided eye contact with him. She looked around the house again.

"What is this? Some kind of Grimoire thing again?"

"Grimoire?"

"Was the tree a weird time traveling portal or something?"

"Tree? No, there is no tree or Grimoire."

"Then what is this?"

He sadly blinked at her, hurt in his eyes. He sharply inhaled before hesitantly explained, "This is...this is our home. Our life."

Abbie studied him. This Crane was fully acculturated to the time. He was just as handsome as ever, a few strands of silver hair shimmered near his temples. His full beard trimmed to a goatee that gave him a scholarly look. A gold ring rested on his finger, similar to the one now hidden in her pocket. And his eyes, those eyes were filled with evident, unconditional love all directed at her. She looked around their home. It was full of memories she had not _yet_ made. Happy memories, fond memories with him, her husband. She sighed and closed her eyes. This was definitely not her Crane.

She looked up at him warily and muttered, "Yeah, this sure as hell isn't my life."

"Abbie..."

"Stop," she grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut and holding up her hand. She couldn't bear to hear him call her that. He only used her name when things got serious, when it was life or death. Frankly, she wasn't sure what this was and she didn't want to hear it.

She muttered, "Just don't."

"Please, my love..."

Those words again. Anger bubbled inside her. That pet name was getting on her last nerve. She hated it. She hated how it came from his lips. She hated how it was directed toward her. She hated how it reminded her of all that time when she was second best, when her entire life revolved around that woman that so callously betrayed her own husband without a second thought. Everything she had sacrificed and risked had all been for naught because of that woman's selfishness and cruelty.

"You need to stop calling me that," she said edgily, opening her eyes to the floor. She looked up to glare at him.

Suddenly, flashes of her last moments flickered in the back of her mind. Jenny. Ichabod. Joe. The story of Paul Revere's nephew. It all came rushing back. Her last moments before entering the tree. Jenny possessed. The shard. Sacrificing herself for her sister. Realization hit her. Of course she didn't travel through time. She couldn't have. None of this was real. She looked up at him.

"I'm dead," she whispered.

"Pardon?"

She nodded determinedly. "I'm dead," she repeated flatly.

"You most assuredly are not."

"I am. The shard exploded in my hands. I couldn't have survived that. So where am I? Purgatory? Hell? Or is this supposed to be some messed up kind of heaven?"

Crane frowned at her. He stared at her in concern before asking, "Have you taken your medication today?"

"My medication?"

"For your… _anxiety_."

"What the hell are you talking about?" she scoffed, feeling offended that he was dismissing her current state as a result of her apparent poor mental health. She was perfectly fine. She didn't need medication.

Suddenly, a tiny voice came from the foot of the stairs behind her. "Papa?"

Abbie turned around to look at the small person wearing a purple tutu over her jeans and t-shirt, clinging to a floppy eared stuffed bunny. Her heart leapt in her chest. She had never seen such a beautiful child. She was four or five years old. Her dark curls were gathered into a tight little bun on the top of her head, escaped wisps of hair tickled her cheeks. Her brown skin glowed. Her blue eyes sparkled curiously. Her perfectly full lips pouted much like hers did when lost in thought. The little girl bit her lip and furrowed her brow at her.

"Jennifer, wait in your room," ordered Crane firmly.

The little girl studied Abbie. "What's wrong with mama?" she asked quietly.

Abbie gasped. _Did she just…?_ No, this couldn't be happening. She was dead. She died. She couldn't be a… _mother_?

"Woah, wha…?" breathed Abbie, looking at her then at Crane in bewilderment.

They had a daughter? When did this happen? How could they have brought a child into this world knowing the dangers that threatened their lives? How could they even dare? And how could she not know about her? This was all wrong. What kind of afterlife was this? The Maury Povich edition?

"What the hell is going on here?" she demanded in frustration, turning to raise her voice at him.

The little girl looked at her in surprise but then smirked. She looked up at Crane.

"Mama said a bad word," she said playfully, hiding her face behind her stuffed bunny's head.

Crane raised his eyebrow reproachfully at her as if expecting her to understand the expectations of their behavior around the little girl. He directed his attention to the tiny person. "Jennifer Mills Crane, to your room at once," he ordered her, pointing up the stairs.

The little girl huffed and flipped her non-existent hair out of her face. Good Lord, she looked exactly like her father. All that was missing was that damn finger in the face routine. Crane widened his eyes at her. The little girl, understanding his silent reprimanding, pouted.

Reluctantly, she replied, "Yes, sir."

She slowly made her way back up the stairs, occasionally glancing back to look at Abbie. When she caught one of Crane's firm, humorless looks, she ran up the rest of the stairs, her tiny stomps echoing throughout the house.

Abbie couldn't catch her breath. How could she have a daughter? And she named her after Jenny? She closed her eyes and shook her head. She couldn't be a wife and mother. Wasn't she supposed to be resting in peace? What kind of cruel joke was this?

"Who was that?" she asked, opening her eyes to stare up the stairwell, hoping yet dreading to catch another glimpse of her.

Crane looked at her grimly. "You are not well."

"Who was that?" demanded Abbie impatiently, turning to him.

He sighed, the sadness in his eyes never leaving. He took a few steps toward her. Abbie's nerves were too frayed for her to care. When he was within reach of her, he reached out hesitantly and rubbed her shoulders. He smiled. "Our daughter, Jennifer. Do you not recognize your own daughter?"

She scoffed, "I think I'd know if I had a kid. That...she's not mine. And we don't have kids."

She wiggled out of his grasp, folding her arms protectively in front of her. As beautiful as that child was, she was not hers. As wonderful as it may be to imagine having a child with Crane, it was not possible. There had to be some baby making involved to make babies. As far as she knew, there was definitely none of that going on nor had there ever been. She would have definitely remembered that.

He frowned at her indifference. "Something is wrong."

"Oh, you think?" she guffawed sarcastically.

He narrowed his eyes in irritation. He sighed and calmly asked, "What is your last memory?"

She looked at him nonplussed. "What difference does it make? I'm dead! Or at least I should be," she bit out, ditching any effort to pretend to be okay with the current situation.

The muscle in his jaw tightened. She had pushed one of his buttons. He didn't like her unfriendliness or appreciate her attitude. She could tell but, frankly, she couldn't care less. She wanted an explanation. Or a one way ticket home. Something, anything that made a lick of sense.

"You must tell me what you last remember," he reiterated, looking at her completely serious.

She raised her eyebrow. "First, you tell me where I am," she countered challengingly.

He plainly stated, "This is our home."

She smiled sarcastically. "Yeah? I don't think so. Where is this?" she asked again, distrustfully stepping away from him.

He huffed impatiently. "Abigail, this is our home. Now, tell me what you last remember," he demanded, his voice getting harsher by the moment.

Abbie could sense that he was beginning to lose his temper. He rarely lost his temper but on the occasions that he did, she knew how to handle herself. She glared at him. She didn't have time for arguments. She wanted answers. If answering his stupid question would get him to answer her, then so be it. She rolled her eyes dispassionately.

"Alright, fine. We were in Pandora's lair. I had the shard, pieces of it, in my hands. The tree opened up. I walked toward it. And seconds later... I'm here, wherever the hell 'here' is," she explained peevishly.

He knit his brow in concern. "That is not...," he began but decided to pause. He looked at her before decidedly saying, "We must call Joe."

She didn't understand what Joe had to do with anything. "Joe? Hang on, where's Jenny?" she asked, suddenly realizing that if there was anybody in the world who would understand her, it was Jenny.

He gazed down at her with a pained expression. She stared back at him warily. Something had happened to Jenny. She could feel it.

"Where's my sister?" she asked again, approaching him slowly.

He looked away. "You don't...you don't remember," he pointed out, his eyes filled with sadness.

She continued walking toward him suspiciously. "Remember what?" she asked quietly.

"We must call Joe..."

She walked up to him and pushed her tiny finger in his chest. He looked at her taken aback by her actions.

"Crane or whoever the hell you are, you're gonna tell me what's going on or we're going to have a bigger problem than me not remembering anything," she warned, lightly pushing him with her finger. He nodded silently.

He took a deep breath before cautiously explaining, "Miss...Jenny, we...the shard did not function. We were too late."

The air left her lungs. "What?" she gasped, knowing fully well what the next statement was going to be but desperately hoping she was wrong.

"Jenny is dead. She has been for many years now."

* * *

 ** _Oh my! Right? Update out of nowhere! :) I hope you enjoyed the chapter!_**

 ** _Man, this was fun to write! Kind of long but I'm kind of excited to see where this is going to go. The idea kind of came out of nowhere. There was just so much angst coming from Crane I needed to balance it out and put Abbie in a super strange situation._**

 ** _So, what do you think? Where is Abbie? What's Crane going to do next? What do you think of the hiatus so far?_**

 ** _Thank you to those of you who have taken the time to write reviews and read my story. I truly appreciate you!_**

 ** _Your humble writer,_**

 ** _semul_**


	12. Chapter 12

**_Note:_** ** _Due to the nature of this chapter, the rating for this story has been changed to M_** _. **The following chapter contains possible triggers involving a brief graphic murder scene, enclosed spaces, emotional abuse, physical violence, and asphyxiation. Reader discretion is advised.**_

* * *

Her sister could not be dead. She simply couldn't.

Abbie played this over and over in her head as she slipped past Crane and took the keys to her car, or at least what she assumed was hers. She ran out the door and climbed into the unfamiliar vehicle, Crane shouting after her. Ignoring him, she hastily backed out of the driveway. Her heart clenched when she caught a glimpse of a child's seat and a forgotten kid's book in the backseat. It unnerved her to no end but she didn't have time to dwell on the fact that there was a baby girl inside that house that shared her DNA. Abbie needed to find Jenny.

She drove as fast as she could until she pulled up to the trees where her sister's trailer normally hid and scrambled out of the car. The clearing was thirty yards away. She needed proof, to see it with her own eyes.

The trees whipped past her as she sprinted through the dense forest until she reached the edge of the clearing. Her eyes scanned the empty field. Nothing. Her lungs burned as she gasped for air and held back her sobs, her chest heaving from the effort.

No truck. No trailer. No Jenny.

How could this have happened? Jenny was fine. She'd drained the power of the Eye into the shard. It worked. She couldn't have failed her again.

Abbie widened her tear-filled eyes and covered her mouth in shock as she slowly approached the spot where the trailer had stood. The grass gave no signs of having been disturbed, as if her sister's home had never existed. Her body trembled as she fell to her knees. This could not be happening. She was supposed to protect her, look after her. She had promised. Doubling over, she ran her hands through her hair before clenching fistfuls of it. She'd failed. Jenny was gone. Her body jolted with sobs as the hot tears flowed.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed rocking in pain before the realization hit her. She knew exactly where she ended up. There could only be one place where this would happen, a place where her sister was dead and she was alive.

Abbie was in hell.

"You got that right, kid."

She whipped around to see her former partner standing behind her. She roughly wiped at her eyes and sniffled back the flow of tears. It was Corbin.

He was dressed in his sheriff's uniform – exactly the way she liked to remember him – smiling and no signs of the brutally violent death he had suffered. She hiccupped back a sob. The corners of his kind blue eyes crinkled. Soft wafts of his familiar aftershave and a faint hint of apple pie reached her nostrils.

Her heart ached. God, how she missed him. Her wet eyelashes stuck to her cheeks as she blinked rapidly, taking in his presence. He looked so alive, so real. Yet, as much as she wanted to believe it, it wasn't him. It couldn't be him. Her beloved mentor was dead but he couldn't have possibly ended up here. This imposter was just like the one in purgatory. This wasn't her Corbin.

She shook her head in denial and crawled back, away from him. "Stay away," she warned him.

"Kiddo…," he said, slowly stepping toward her.

She lurched backwards refusing to let whatever creature this was to touch her. "Stop! Don't get any closer!" she spat out.

He paused and tilted his head in curiosity. He smiled warmly, "It's me."

She held up her finger and slowly stood up from her crouch, breathing hard through her nose. "No. Corbin is dead," she said firmly.

"Abbie..."

She closed her eyes and held back a whimper. His voice, the way he said her name, his mere presence was getting to her. She'd forgotten how much she desperately missed him. Her broken heart tempted her to believe him. _No_ , she decided resolutely. She had to fight past it and hold her ground. Opening her eyes, she glared at him. He looked at her patiently.

"This is not the first time they've used him against me," she growled out, snapping out of her initial sorrow. This was how she almost got trapped last time. She couldn't allow herself to be so easily manipulated again. Straightening her back, she wiped at her face, paying no mind to her smudged makeup.

"You're not August Corbin, you demonic bastard."

Suddenly, the warm smile disappeared from his crinkly face. A sinister grin replaced it. He tilted his head down for a moment before looking up at her maliciously. Its eyes glowed a fiery crimson.

"You always were sharp," it sneered.

A chill crawled up her spine. Everything froze around her. The breeze blowing through the grass stopped. The warmth from the sun ceased. The background noises of birds and insects were brought to a halt as if they'd been playing on a recorded track. All she could hear was the sound of her shallow breaths and the faint beating of her panicked heart. Abbie looked around her startled, a sense of terror settling in her stomach. None of this was real. She hadn't traveled in time, she'd ended up here – wherever, the hell 'here' was.

The demon closed its eyes and leaned its head back as if in pleasure. "Mmm, that heartbeat. I haven't heard the sweet sounds of life in a looong time," it cooed in a disturbingly distorted version of her mentor's voice.

Clearly, it enjoyed seeing her squirm. She swallowed thickly. Abbie had enough understanding of showdowns to know when she was in over her head. Whatever this was, it was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Something inside her confirmed that there was no way she could think, fight, or talk her way out of this. There was no escape. The fear building inside her was nearly paralyzing. All she could do was brace herself for whatever came next.

"Good," it reassured as it slowly approached her, "Good, Witness. Come to terms with your true purpose."

She tried to tell it where it could shove its opinion but all that came out when she opened her mouth were gurgled gasps. Widening her eyes, she gawked at him as she struggled to make an intelligible sound.

"Oh no-no. Don't force it. I turned it off, for now. Bantering with the devil is so clichéd," it said, gazing down at her intently.

Lucifer. This couldn't be…could it? She guardedly studied him. No, this couldn't possibly be Satan, the one she grew up reading about, the one responsible for all the evil in the world, the one she was supposed to help defeat. This was just demons, evil forces, screwing with her again. There was no reason for her to be meeting the devil face-to-face.

It raised his eyebrow challengingly. "You came knocking at _my_ door, sweetheart. I didn't request the pleasure of your company, you _bestowed_ it upon me," it reminded her, smirking and tilting his head.

Her lips parted in realization as her body started trembling – he had mind reading abilities. None of the evil creatures they'd crossed had that ability. They'd been single minded, inane, dangerous yet beatable. Whatever this was, it was of a different caliber. Abbie backed down. She was shrewd and cunning, a formidable foe when it was needed. Right now was not one of those moments. She took a step back.

He smiled. "Good to know there is still fear in you, Witness. I was beginning to worry."

Narrowing her eyes, she glared at him. If it wasn't going to allow her to talk, then she would use her thoughts to tell him where to go.

He chuckled. "Oh, you can't send me anywhere I haven't already been."

She swallowed back the insults she wanted to scream out. Fine, she'd keep it simple. He didn't want her talk, so be it. It didn't mean she wouldn't ask questions. _Where am I_ , she inquired silently.

He smirked teasingly, aware of her attempt to play along. "Oh, I think you already know the answer to that one, _honey_ ," he taunted, employing the name Corbin used to call her.

She glowered. It wasn't necessary to keep up the act but clearly he was drawing pleasure from provoking her. She summoned as much strength as she could to remain impassive. She couldn't let him figure out how terrified she actually felt. She cleared her mind before asking, _Why?_

"Why, indeed, Witness?" he pondered aloud, smiling twistedly.

Abbie furrowed her brow. He was baiting her. She expected a long, villainous speech but was taken aback when it started throwing out questions instead.

"Why would you give your life to save that ungrateful brat of a sister or that conceited prick of a partner that derailed your entire life? After everything you gave to them and they just let you die. You tried to keep them out of trouble. You sacrificed everything. Your dreams, your career, the best years of your life. You looked out for them and they couldn't even return the favor. They couldn't care less about you," he said lamentingly.

Her face fell. He was getting personal. She clenched her jaw. She couldn't let him get to her. _Shut up_ , she warned silently.

He grimaced in feigned concern. "Oh, please don't tell me you thought they actually cared about you? You poor, delusional girl. Have you actually forgotten? Or don't you remember those stings of rejection, the loneliness they made you feel?"

Images of Jenny lashing out at her for not being on her side, for forsaking her when she needed her the most flashed before her. Shame filled her heart. Memories of Crane taking Katrina's side, rejecting her at the cabin, and abandoning her without a word pervaded her mind. Feelings of being second best, never good enough, overcame her. She shook her head snapping her out of wallowing in a moment self-pity. She winced, willing herself to clear her buzzing mind.

"Do you _really_ think Jenny truly forgave you for your cowardice? That Crane wouldn't chose Katrina over you in a heartbeat?"

Biting her bottom lip, she looked down in frustration. She knew he was riling her up. She understood he was simply manipulating her, and yet, a dull pain bloomed in her chest. Self-doubt was a dangerous weakness. She hated that even she was susceptible to it. She glared up at him as he continued spitting his venom.

"And those parents of yours," he looked at her in insincere indignation, "Your mother's suffocating crazy and your father's incessant drinking. All those years, Abbie. Don't you remember those epic yelling matches that would scare you out of your bed? That terrible screaming and slamming? You were just a child. Having to protect Jenny, pretending that a _dollhouse_ could save you? It wasn't fair. No child should have to go through what you had to. And then for him to just leave, abandon you when you needed him the most. He was the reason you had to grow up so fast."

Her chest heaved rapidly. Those memories. She'd thought she had moved past those traumatizing memories and yet the pain in her heart reminded her that they were still as fresh as the day they happened. Lowering her gaze, she clenched her fists and kept her head down, trying her best to maintain her composure.

He shook his head pityingly. "Why didn't they do anything to overcome their struggles?" he questioned. He gazed up at her knowingly. "You know the answer to that one, don't you, Abbie? You know the truth. You know it was because you just weren't worth it. In fact, if we recall correctly, the terrible fate of your family was really all your fault. If you had been a good girl and made them happy, things would have turned out different. You could have kept them together if you'd just tried a little harder."

Hearing the words aloud were more excruciating than just thinking them. Her resolve was slowly breaking down.

He continued twisting the proverbial knife. "Then again, you cursed them the day you were born. If you weren't a Witness, your family would have survived. They would have been okay, alive even, if you never existed."

Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. Her chin trembled. Everything she had shoved down, avoided confronting, it was all coming out into the open. The pain of old wounds being ripped open filled her senses. She couldn't escape it.

He smirked. "Oh, and Corbin. Sweet August Corbin. This face that still haunts your dreams. The king of all liars. The father you never had. He held back so much from you, didn't he? Guess he didn't love you as much as you did him. But isn't that just the story of your life? You know as well as I do, he truly wasn't destined to die at the hands of the horseman. That was your fault. You could have protected him but you didn't. You weren't fast enough, good enough. You were never good enough."

He knew. All of her insecurities, he knew every single one of them by heart.

"Of course, I do, Grace Abigail Mills. You always were one of my favorites. The torture you put yourself through is…quite delicious."

Abbie looked up at him, trembling in anger. She managed to hold back the tears. Her anger outweighed her self-doubts. He had violated her most intimate thoughts. He thought he could break her by throwing her secrets in her face. She would not stand for it. Raising her chin defiantly, she threw a barrage of questions at him. _Why the façade? Why bring me into your world this way? Why Crane? Why the child? Why my sister?_

He blinked knowingly. "It's your ultimate vulnerability, Abbie: the future. It's inescapable, unpredictable. Regardless of what fate has in store for you, the future is always up in the air. And that's what scares you the most. Not having control over your own future. Love, family, and death are always rolling around in your head. You're constantly sacrificing one to avoid another. You refuse to risk anything out of fear. A very sensible fear, to be honest. And what better way to welcome you to my kingdom than with what you fear the most; happiness. Well done on destroying that one, by the way. Took all of five seconds. Quite a record," he said in impressed amusement.

She narrowed her eyes. Her insecurities were his entertainment. He enjoyed it. This sick, twisted, evil thing fed off of her pain. It was then that she made a decision. She was going to kill him or die trying.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't be upset. You have yet to experience the classics. Besides, it's over, for now. No more husband. No more child. I've had them both gutted and quartered. See, look," he said waving his arm before she could realize what was happening.

Suddenly, a grisly sight appeared before her. She was in her bedroom, or a strange version of it, blood splattered across the walls and bed, mangled body parts were strewn on the floor, and the lifeless eyes of Crane and their child looked up at her. She gasped in horror as she took in the gruesome scene before her. She stumbled back in shock banging against something solid behind her.

She turned to the door that should have been there only to find a solid wall. She banged against it with her fists, yelling in terrified frustration. She looked around her room in terror. No windows. No doors. Only walls. She turned back to face the wall. The smell of iron filled her nostrils as she frantically searched for a way out. She distraughtly slid along the edges of the room, refusing to look behind her, blood from the sopping carpet staining her boots. She banged on the all the walls from top to bottom until she'd made a full turn around the room. There was no escape.

She tiredly continued pounding and crying out for what felt like hours until her fists were bloody and her throat was raw. She whimpered and fell to her knees hard, squeezing her eyes shut but it was too late. The bloody image of her slaughtered family had permanently seared itself into her memory. Crane, her child, cold and lifeless. It was a page straight out of her worst nightmares.

She shook her head in denial. _No,_ she determinedly thought. She couldn't let it get to her. She needed to stay strong. _It isn't real, it isn't real, it isn't real_ , she repeated wordlessly in an anxious attempt to soothe herself.

Suddenly, the smell of iron disappeared. The walls she sensed around her vanished. Gagging back an overwhelming need to vomit, she cautiously opened her eyes.

She wasn't back in the clearing. All the evidence of the devastating scene she'd just experienced vanished, even the blood that was smeared on her clothes and shoes was gone. The pain in her throat and fists were there but only existing as a dull throb, a reminder of her previous torture. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Looking around her familiar surroundings, she realized she was in the tunnels beneath Sleepy Hollow.

Carefully standing, she warily peered down the four paths around her. Everything was silent. No drips of leaking water. No scurries of the typical hordes of rats and spiders. Not one an echo of life. She gazed at the walls for any recognizable markings. Nothing. She knew she was standing at some sort of intersection, yet everything was completely different.

"Abbie…," a sinister voice whispered, echoing throughout the tunnels.

She whipped around in alarm. Empty. She was alone. Lowering her body in a defensive hunch and backing herself against a wall, she paused, bracing herself for whatever evil she was going to encounter next. After a few minutes of absolute stillness, she decided to move and began walking down one of the tunnels cautiously. A few moments of creeping forward passed until she found her bearings. She furrowed her brow as she continued walking. No signs of anything out of the ordinary besides the unfamiliarity of tunnels and the whisper she thought she heard. Maybe it was all in her head. Maybe she had somehow escaped. A flicker of hope grew in her chest. She could be back in her world for all she knew.

The flames from the torches lit along the tunnel walls softly illuminated the path in front of her. She licked her dry lips as she followed the maze of tunnels hoping to come across something familiar. After what seemed like hours, the hope she felt was quickly replaced with panic. Nothing was recognizable. These weren't the tunnels she knew.

"Abbie…," the voice repeated as if it were right behind her.

This time she felt a cold chill on the back of her neck. She froze. Her heart beat uncontrollably as she began to quaver. Holding back a whimper, she slowly turned her head to look behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, a pair of menacing red eyes glowed at the end of the tunnel behind her, its figure shrouded in darkness.

"Run," it breathed harshly.

Pure fear immediately filled her senses as she ran, following a labyrinth of passageways to escape whatever it was that she felt was chasing after her. Terrifying growls and shrieks resonated throughout the tunnels. She sobbed in fright as she continued sprinting away from chilling sounds only to come upon other unearthly noises. She ran past it covering her ears, only to have the sounds get louder. She uncovered her ears and winced through the noises as she dashed past them. There was no explanation as to why she was fleeing, all she knew was that stopping wasn't an option, as if it were a gut feeling pushing her to continue.

It went on for hours. Then, without warning, the dull light that had illuminated the tunnels dimmed to pitch black as the sounds faded away. Slowing to a walk, she shakily felt her way along the walls of the tunnel. Her ears pinged as they adjusted to the silence. She shuddered trying to take in loud, shallow gasps of air. Her legs felt wobbly yet she couldn't bring herself to rest.

Fear overwhelmed her like never before. She'd never felt so frightened, so hopeless, so alone in her entire life. Nobody was there to protect her, to have her back. And there was nothing she could do to protect herself or find motivation to fight through another round of this unbearable agony. Hell was slowly starting to push past her expectations of how thoroughly evil and torturous it truly was, even the stories of sulfur and brimstone hadn't come close to its actual description. Where was God? The angels? The divine force that had put her in this position in the first place? Why didn't anyone come rescue her? Why was she left completely alone to face this torment?

"Tired, Witness?" a voice hissed in front of her.

Abbie stiffened. Halting to a stop, she shakily breathed. Swallowing back a cry, she tried out her voice.

"Wh-wh-what do you want from me?" she pleaded hoarsely.

The distorted voice snickered. "Wh-wh-what are you willing to give me?" it mocked her.

"Please…just please…," she managed to choke out, as she closed her eyes tightly, burning tears escaping the corner of her eyes.

"Oh, don't tell me you're tired. We've only gone a few hours. We still have lots of playtime left," it taunted, it's rotten breath blowing in her face.

Her legs gave out beneath her. She landed on her hands and knees. She hung her head in defeat. "Stop…please no more…," she whispered ashamedly, yet yearning for a glimmer of mercy, an end to the torment.

"Do you not realize what I'm doing for you, Abigail?" it asked adamantly. Abbie was too tired to argue. She just wanted it to be over. The voice persisted. "I'm restoring the balance. You are a Witness. Not a soldier, not a destroyer. Your role is to be an insignificant bystander. You've become arrogant, brash in your actions, and I am simply reawakening your fear. Putting you in your rightful place. "

She whimpered. All coherent thoughts disappearing.

It bent over her and whispered in her ear, puffs of rank breath caressing her cheek, "You think you can defeat me, Witness? You can't beat me. You will _never_ escape me."

Abbie felt cold fingers wrap themselves around her throat. She choked back sobs as it slowly lifted her up from the ground until her toes skimmed the ground. Grabbing hold of the arm holding her up, she kicked violently, thrashing her body. If she was going to die, she wouldn't die without a fight. She landed a few good kicks until the pain of her burning throat and lungs were too much to handle. Just as she was about to pass out, she was thrown to the ground. Violent sobs racked her body as she lay on the floor, coughing in deep breaths.

After finding her breath, she felt a presence loom over her, staring at her. Blinking blearily, she looked up. A pair of red eyes regarded her. Closing her eyes, she limply turned her cheek. She was done. She couldn't go any further. This was how she was going to die. In hell, alone, tortured.

"No. Not yet. We've only just begun," it hissed in her ear.

Unexpectedly, she felt a hand around her ankle. It tugged harshly, dragging her in the direction she had just fled. Dread filled her insides but she was too weak to fight. She stayed still as her back scraped against the rocky ground.

It pulled her along the tunnel, humming. As she came in and out of consciousness, the song became clear. It sang in an unsettling soft voice, " _Big wheel keep on turnin', proud Mary keep on burnin', rollin', rollin', rollin' on the river…"_

Abbie closed her eyes. Crane. Jenny. Home. It was all gone. Fear was her sole companion now. Consciousness eluded her as she welcomed the shroud of oblivion.

* * *

 *** _pokes head out of the hole I've been hiding_ * Sooo, that happened. Apologies for taking so long. Job and family obligations, you know how it goes. Along with the fact that I wrote and rewrote this chapter so many times, I wasn't sure which version I wanted to release. I really hope I haven't scared away readers but I understand if this wasn't everybody's cup of tea. We'll just say the hiatus is getting to me. Plus, I kind of miss the scary thrill part from the first season. I may have overcompensated. :P**

 **Anyway, the next chapter will be more angsty, a bit cathartic, and far less disturbing. Promise. And don't worry, Abbie will survive. Things will work out, you have my word. :)**

 **As always, thank you for keeping me going with this story and feel free to write a review. I'd LOVE to hear from you!**

 **Your fairly messed up writer,**

 **semul**


	13. Chapter 13

_A white light burned his vision. Slowly, the brightness faded to indistinct shadows of a familiar sight. The inside of a home. Their home. Questions crept in the back of his mind but were soon forgotten as she walked through the door._

 _Abbie._

 _His heart filled with a tenderness so tranquil and an ardor so passionate, it nearly tore him apart. The longing he had felt for weeks, the necessity to see her if only for a moment, had driven him mad._ _And here she stood, as beautiful as he remembered, as radiant as ever._

 _Their eyes met and he forgot how to breathe. She slyly smiled at him causing his chest to tighten in untamed elation. She glided toward him as he held out his hands to touch her. Her small fingers slowly slipped through his. They silently gazed at their intertwined hands, gold bands upon their ring fingers. It was no surprise. Somehow he knew, this was always their destiny. It was as it should be. He lovingly turned his gaze to her. She looked up at him silently._

 _He sighed softly, careful to preserve the serenity of her presence. She was the image of loveliness. His Abbie. His heart. She chuckled, as if aware of his unspoken attentions, looking up at him demurely. He pursed his lips in restrained delight. It never ceased to amaze him how her sincere coyness both enchanted and seduced him. She shook her head playfully, slipping her hands out of his, and walked toward the staircase. He reluctantly released her and followed her with his gaze. She turned to him and raised her eyebrows subtly, glancing up the stairs. He arched his eyebrow. She smirked as she silently walked up the stairs._

 _He beheld their peaceful home. Everything was in its place, strangely the same as when she disappeared, a few new items strewn about. Yet, something in the back of his mind fought to remind him of something he neglected to remember._

 _Setting the matter aside, he walked toward the stairs ready to join her but a sudden pain shot through his head. He pressed his palms to his temples. The throbbing was excruciating. He squeezed his eyelids shut and fell to his knees. A chill ran up his spine. A terror he had not experienced in his life, the worst of ominous feelings, overtook him. Abbie. He gasped in desperation. He needed to find her, to save her. Once the pain ebbed away, he groaned blinking his eyes open._

 _A sense of horror gripped him as he saw her clawing at the bloodied walls of her bedroom, screaming in terror. Somehow he had been transported to this torturous scene, charged with the duty of silently observing her pain. He strained and struggled against his unseen confines yet remained powerless. He frantically called out to her but no words came out. She continued in her agonizing fight to escape an unknown foe._

 _His inability to move or make a sound filled him with an excruciating anguish. Watching her suffer, incapable of bringing it to an end, destroyed him. Her cries tore at his soul. The torture went on for what seemed like an when he thought he could not withstand another moment, darkness shrouded his vision._

 _A pair of frightening red eyes flashed before him. His insides trembled in terror. The energy emanating from the gaze was pure evil. He had never sensed such malice in a mere stare. Darkness clouded his sight once again only to reveal another familiar sight. He was in the tunnels beneath Sleepy Hollow or at least a perversion of it. Footsteps echoed throughout the passages. He discerned Abbie's shortened breaths and whimpers but could not see her._

 _He attempted to move again though he continued in his incapacitation. He snarled soundlessly. Why could he not move? It was as if his worst fear had come to pass; to remain inactive, feckless in the face of the enemy. He fought against his motionless state until Abbie finally appeared before him, sliding along the walls weakened by her seemingly endless fleeing. She appeared broken, defeated as never before. He could sense her frail state of mind. A whimper stuck in his throat as he tried to reach out to her in vain. What he would not do to hold her in his arms, to protect her, to end her torture. He heard a muffled rumble, reminiscent of Moloch's voice, echo out from the darkness._

 _He could not distinguish what was being said but he saw her cringe and fall to her knees. She pleaded but an invisible force lifted her from the ground by her neck. She choked out cries of outrage, writhing about wildly attempting to escape. He roared inaudibly. After an agonizing moment, she fell to the ground lifelessly. He screamed, cursing noiselessly, damning the entity that tortured her. She lay still on the cold, hard floor, defeated and broken. Her head lolled to the side, her eyelids fluttering shut._

 _After a moment, the invisible force began dragging her limp body away from him. He cried out to her, knowing his outrage would never reach her ears, uncertain if he would ever see her again. Then she was gone._

 _An unnatural silence came over the tunnels. He lay in defeat, tears refusing to spill. He had failed her. Abbie was gone once again. His body vibrated in shame and anger. The rage inside him was too fierce to contain. The tunnels began to shake, rubble falling all around him._

 _As it buried his still body, a malevolent voice whispered in his ear, "Illa est mea in perpetuum…"_

Ichabod's body jerked alive as he screamed out in agony, his voice echoing against the walls of the archives. He flew back from the table he had been resting on and wildly looked about the room. He was drenched in sweat, his hands shaking. He panted, panic overtaking him. Abbie, she was suffering at the hands of an evil entity. It held her captive. Her pain. Her torture. He squeezed his eyes shut, images of her torment flashing to the forefront of his mind, echoes of the evil whisper filling his thoughts, _she is mine forever_.

And yet...she was alive. _Abbie was alive._ He widened his eyes, taken aback by the realization. It was her, he could feel it – their bond remained unbroken. He shakily exhaled in relief, his body still trembling in trepidation. The impossible was possible. Abbie was alive!

After weeks of searching, he finally knew her fate. She had managed to cling to life but where? He darted to the bookshelves. He frantically began pulling out the books he knew contained information about the dream-like realm he feared she was being held. He skimmed through the texts, hastily discarding them as they continued confirming his worst fears.

Once he had established the futility of her situation, he raised his trembling hand to his forehead, pausing at the table in the middle of the archives. Abbie was in hell. She had entered Pandora's tree to save them all and had descended into the underworld. There was nothing he could do to save her. She was stuck, doomed to a torturous afterlife. He quivered in anger, breathing heavily. He was as inadequate as he felt in his dream, an inept fool. He forcefully knocked everything off the table near him, throwing it to the floor in a loud raucous. Shouting in rage, he banged his palms against the surface of the table.

It was hopeless. He roughly ran his stinging hand through his hair. He could not bring her back. Closing his eyes, he shook his head. No, she could not remain there. He would not allow it. He opened his eyes and cupped his mouth, desperately filtering through all his knowledge, searching for an answer to the impossible.

 _The Grande Grimoire._

He lowered his hand, his eyes training themselves on the spot in the wall where he had hid it. After Katrina, he and Abbie vowed to never summon forth its dark forces. She had demanded he hide it. Since she still had Jenny, it was more of a temptation for her than it was for him. Little did they know, it would become _his_ temptation and _her_ salvation.

His fingers twitched. A passage he glanced over the last time it had been in his possession came to mind. Perhaps not all hope was lost. After a few moments of hesitation, he huffed and strode to the hidden spot. Retrieving the book, he flipped it open.

Without warning, the door to the archives swung open. Master Corbin walked in and locked stares with him. His eyes slid to the book in his hand. His unsure smile wavered as he closed the door behind him.

"Crane?"

Startled, Ichabod's mouth gaped open. "Master Corbin...," he said breathlessly, surprised by his sudden appearance.

"You alright?" Corbin knit his brow as he slowly walked toward him.

Ichabod blinked at him, recognizing his currently indictable position. He had, as the ridiculous saying asserted, been 'caught with his hand in the cookie jar'. He looked down at the open book and reluctantly closed it. He lowered it in one hand and straightened his shoulders, preparing himself for his comrade's disapproval. Though he understood the risk he had taken in seriously considering the use of the forbidden book, he knew Corbin would only reiterate the brashness of his actions.

Corbin glanced down at the book, sensing the tenseness of the situation. "What's wrong?"

Ichabod inhaled sharply and looked away guiltily. All the warring emotions inside him had rendered him mute. He wanted to explain his reasoning yet he knew his words could not convince Joe Corbin to allow such treachery, he would not, could not, comprehend his desperation.

"What's that?" He approached him, reaching for the book in his hand.

Ichabod held his grip on it as he tried to pull it out of his grasp. He was more than disinclined to expose his true intentions. It would only serve to worsen the perspective he and Jenny already had of him. He was aware of their disapproving stance on his obsessive dedication to finding Abbie. They thought he had descended into irreversible madness. They weren't wrong. However, madness was the only path he was capable of traveling at the moment. Madness would return her to him.

Corbin snapped his gaze up apprehensively, keeping his hold on the book. Ichabod glared at him distrustfully. If he released his hold on the book, it could the last time he saw it. There was no telling how Corbin would react. He admonished himself. How could he be so callous? Corbin wanted the same thing as him: Abbie home and safe. He couldn't be so dismissive of his intentions. If he couldn't trust those that cared the most for him, then there was no point in continuing his search. He may as well remain alone. Ichabod swallowed thickly, reluctantly deciding to place his trust in him.

"Our only hope," he cautioned earnestly, slowly releasing the book. Corbin looked at him doubtfully then down at the cover of the book, studying its distinctive markings. He opened the cover and glanced at the title.

"The Grande Grimoire?" he inquired, slowly adjusting the book in his hands. He glimpsed through the pages, his eyebrows raising in surprise. Ichabod stood tensely, attentively studying his reaction.

After a moment of silence, Corbin closed it and set it down on the table quietly. He looked up at him grimly. "Jenny told me about this. It's what your wife used when she tried to take you out colonial Fatal Attraction style, right?"

Not understanding the reference but assuming it referred to Katrina attempting to murder his past self along with Abbie, he nodded slightly to confirm his conjecture.

Corbin took a deep breath, setting his mouth in a straight line and lowered his voice. "As I recall, it ended up putting Abbie in some pretty serious danger. If it wasn't for her risking her life and traveling back in time, we'd all have been screwed."

Ichabod looked away and tightened his jaw in displeasure. It was a necessary risk Abbie had taken yet she had placed herself in the path of danger due to his unstable marriage, a toxic union that he had been unwilling to terminate. He was entirely culpable for Abbie risking her life, just as he felt responsible now.

Corbin shook his head. "What are you doing with this?"

Studying his expected reaction, Ichabod decided to share what he had seen. It was the only way he could possibly convince him of the logic behind his actions. "I saw her."

"Who?"

"Abbie. She is alive."

Corbin knit his brow, his mouth parted open in disbelief. "What? Where?"

"'Twas a dream, a vision," he hastily explained, snatching the book from the table, turning away and flipping it open. "She is in hell. We do not have time to spare. We must find her."

Corbin watched him disbelievingly as he continued to scan through the pages. He scoffed, "Hang on, a dream? Seriously? You're willing to go dark side because of a dream?"

Ichabod raised a cautioning finger. "'Twas no ordinary dream. I felt her, saw her. She is alive." He continued his search through the book, seeking out all the spells dealing with traveling through realms. Glancing out the corner of his eye, he could already sense Corbin's reluctance to believe him. He could only assume a lecture would follow.

"Crane," Corbin sighed tiredly, his shoulders lowering. He gently leaned his hand on the table in front of him. Ichabod glanced up at him quickly before continuing his search. Pity, not admonishment, was in his eyes. He would have preferred castigation. "We've all had nightmares since that day."

"No," Ichabod paused and closed his eyes, frustrated at his dismissiveness. He was quickly losing the little patience he had kept intact. His lack of faith incensed him. "No, Abbie is alive in hell. This book, these spells shall help us find her. This one requires blood magic but–"

"Woah, wait a second," Corbin interrupted swiftly, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. Ichabod stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He had spoken too soon in regard to his comrade's disapproval. He straightened his back and gave him a challenging stare, holding the book in one arm.

Corbin squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to process his friend's intentions. "Wasn't it you who told me that there are lines we don't cross, forces we don't unleash? What was it? _Or else we risk the very humanity we fight for_? Those were your words. You told me that the last time I tried to pull something this stupid."

Ichabod clenched his jaw. He had said those words not knowing they would come back to haunt him. He didn't regret saying them but how he wished he had the strength to live by them.

"Listen, Crane. I get it. Trust me, I do. But there's gotta be another way."

"There is no other way," he said in a low voice.

"So what? You gonna travel back in time? Trade places with her? Or do you literally want to raise hell to find her? Do you even know what you're putting at risk? For all you know, you could end up screwing everybody over. None of this comes without paying a price."

"I cannot stand by while she suffers! I shall not remain idle!" His nostrils flared as he raised his voice.

"Nobody's telling you to do that!" Corbin countered defensively.

He glared, setting the book down on the table. "Then I shall endeavor to find her by whatever means necessary," he said quietly, flipping through the pages.

Corbin looked at him in disgust. "Including putting us, Jenny, in danger?"

Ichabod muttered. "If that is the case..."

"Breakfast!" Jenny's voice rang out cheerfully, bringing their heated confrontation to an end.

Corbin glared at him with a mixture of anger and disappointment. Ichabod, startled by Jenny's appearance, quickly shut the book and covered it with a nearby map. He couldn't let her see it quite yet. Her reaction would make Corbin's pale in comparison.

"Hey guys, I wasn't sure if you'd be good with breakfast burritos but I figured–" She stopped reaching into the bag after looking up at the two men, sensing the tension. She glanced at both of them unsurely. "What's going on?"

Corbin looked at Ichabod, awaiting an explanation. Ichabod refused to share eye contact with either of them, unwilling to be confronted by both of them. He knew he would be fighting a losing battle.

Corbin scoffed in disgust at his silence. He shook his head. "I've got to get to work," he mumbled.

Jenny knit her brow as he hastily walked past her out the archive doors. She glanced at Ichabod before running after him.

He stood still for a moment before sighing tiredly. Corbin was right. He could not put them in danger. Abbie would never forgive him if he made unnecessary sacrifices to find her, particularly if it meant risking her sister's well-being. Moreover, he would never forgive himself either if any harm were to befall Jenny.

He huffed irritated, returning the book to its rightful hidden spot. It had been a reckless idea. He could not follow the same path as his ill-fated wife. Her desperation had only led to her destruction.

He paused and rubbed his forehead resignedly. That dream, it had reignited something inside him. For weeks, he had walked around numb, disoriented, surviving solely upon the insistence of Jenny and Corbin. He lived in a constant state regret.

He shut his eyes tightly. God, how he missed her. He missed everything about her. Yes, he yearned for her physical presence but it was more than that. He longed for her guidance, her support, the camaraderie they shared, the bond they had formed. He missed her stubbornness, her stoic manner of handling her emotions, her ribbing at his expense, even the way she mistakenly thought she had to save the whole world on her own. He missed every aspect of her – the good, the bad, and the glorious. He ached for it all. Yet, he knew it was more than mere longing for what once was that was driving him mad: he longed for what could have been.

All his life, love was his to seek out. He had been given the passion, desire, and romantic sentiments by every woman he had come across without lifting a finger. He never had to earn or appreciate it. In the time without Abbie, he had realized how little he had done to earn her regard. He expected her to love him unconditionally just as those past women, for her to choose him. But all this time without her, made him realize how unfair it was to expect that from her.

Abbie would not simply walk through the door one day and decide to be his wife. She was far more complex, a far greater treasure of a woman than he had ever come across. She was his friend and partner yet she had shown him more unconditional compassion, generosity, comprehension, and patience than all of his former friends and companions combined. He had taken her for granted. He was undeserving of her.

The mere fact that she had withheld telling him that she had sacrificed her career before going to find Jenny proved that she did not trust him. How could he expect her to trust him? He had rejected and forsaken her for nine months. He unequivocally did not deserve her but God help him, his contemptibility could not put an end to his longing.

"Crane."

He looked up at Miss Jenny. She stood glaring at him with her arms crossed. He swallowed nervously. Corbin must have been informed her of what had happened in her absence.

"What the hell were you thinking? The Grande Grimoire?"

He stayed silent. She looked ready to lecture him but seemed to decide against it after realizing his defeated state. She sighed and closed her eyes, seeking patience. She shook her head dismissively, understanding exactly what he had been thinking, what had motivated him to betray his morals.

"What's all this about you seeing her in a vision?" she asked, changing the topic of conversation.

Ichabod gazed at her determinedly, prepared to do his best to convince her. "This morning. I dreamt her but it was more than that, Miss Jenny. I felt her, I saw her. She is alive."

Jenny nodded, considering his news. She looked up at him with a firm look. "Where?"

He swallowed thickly. Though she did not approve of his methods, she was just as determined to find her sister. Perhaps he would have a better chance of convincing her to find Abbie by whatever means necessary than he did with Corbin. "Abbie is in hell, just as we feared."

She squeezed her eyes shut as if in pain. "Shit."

He nodded. "Indeed."

Jenny rolled her eyes tiredly. "That's still no reason for you to...," she trailed.

He quickly replied, "Yes, I understand."

She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. "So she's alive? You sure?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes."

"Well that's, that's something," she said decidedly. She sighed, nodding. "Okay, we can work with this. There has to be a way, something." She looked at him with a determined gaze, similar to that of her sister. He felt a pang in his heart. "We're going to save her, Crane."

He tightly smiled at her. "Of course."

"Just not that way."

He nodded silently.

"I need you to say it, Crane. I need your word."

"We…," he blinked warily, correcting himself, " _I_ shall not abandon hope. You have my word."

She nodded, heading back to the breakfast that remained on the table. "We'll look into it all later. Let's eat first. I don't want Abbie coming back and accusing me of not feeding you or anything. You know how she gets."

He grinned. She tiredly returned the smile. Though they had moments of disagreement, they were willing to deal with each other's peculiarities. They quietly distributed the food, the sound of their wrappers and paper cups filling the silence.

Regardless of their situation, they managed to keep each other from falling into complete despair. Jenny did her best to fill Abbie's shoes though relied heavily on Joe to keep her standing. Crane did his best to ensure that she did not push herself too hard. It was a team effort to keep each other sane enough to keep fighting.

After they had settled into enjoying their breakfast, Jenny continued the conversation. "You'll never guess who I ran into this morning.

Crane raised his eyebrows expectantly as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Zoe."

He remained silent. He swallowed. He almost forgot about her. He had not thought about her in weeks. After Abbie's disappearance, Miss Corinth was the last person he wanted to see. Yes, her help was valuable to him in regards to his citizenship but she was no Abbie Mills. He could not imagine wasting valuable time with her when he could be finding Abbie. He knit his brow.

Jenny mistook it as confusion. "You know? Your tutor? The one who's helping you with your citizenship? The girl you were dating? Ringing any liberty bells?"

Ichabod smile tightly. "Ah, yes, Miss Corinth. How does she fare?" he asked as attentively as he could sound. He quickly stuffed the rest of the burrito in his mouth, hoping to appear more interested than he actually felt.

Jenny continued chewing small bits of her food. "Apparently, not that great. She said she hasn't heard from you in weeks. You haven't returned any of her texts or calls."

He nodded silently, hastily picking up his garbage and placing it in the empty takeout bag. He knew where this conversation was headed and he wanted to avoid it as long as possible. He returned to his desk silently, shifting through the piles of papers resting on it. Jenny crumpled up her fast food wrappers and intently gazed at him.

"You told her you'd call."

He sharply replied, "And I shall. I am only too aware that the fate of my citizenship rests in her hands."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "You know that's not what I'm referring to."

He paused to glance at her before returning to the book stacks to select another pile of books, mostly to keep his hands busy.

She glanced at his cot by the fireplace. "When's the last time you went home?"

"I am fine."

"I know you are. We're all fine. But that's no reason for you not to take care of yourself."

"I must focus on the task at hand."

Jenny huffed impatiently. "Crane, I hate to tell you this but you're a goddamn mess. If you let that beard get any longer, ZZ Top's going to have some serious competition. Your hair is greasier than these hash browns. And, I'm sorry, but it is seriously starting to smell like a high school boy's gym locker in here."

He looked at her bewilderedly, trying to discern whether he should feel offended or not.

"You need to take care of yourself, get out of here and get some fresh air once in a while. Shave. Get a haircut. Hell, go on a date. Have something to look forward to besides staying locked in here like some caged animal. It's okay to take a break once in a while," she said gently.

Ichabod could not respond. He desperately wanted to tell her to not interfere with his personal affairs but if anybody had the right to, it was the Mills sisters. He could not tell her that Miss Corinth had ceased to be a potential love interest the moment he realized how in love he was with Abbie. No, his truth could only be shared with the object of his desire. Abbie deserved to know before her own sister. Thusly, he bit his tongue as she continued. "If it wasn't for Joe, my mundane day job, I don't know how I'd get through this."

She sighed when she realized he wasn't going to respond. "What I'm trying to say is I want you to feel like you have something to live for."

Ichabod scoffed. "I do but she is currently suffering in the depths of hell," he said disdainfully.

She nodded. "I know. And I know that we are going to do everything humanely possible to get her back. But we also have to realize that there is always the chance that things won't work out the way we want them to and we have to be prepared."

There it was. The 'be prepared' address. He would never be prepared for anything save for the possibility of her return. He refused to even consider the contrary. Despair and anger boiled within him.

"Abbie wouldn't have…"

He hastily picked up the book and slammed it down hard on the table. Jenny jumped. The echo of the slammed book reverberated throughout the room. Dust flew up into the air, its particles dancing in the sunlight beaming through the windows. She blinked at him in surprise. Ichabod's chest heaved as the muscle in his jaw tensed. He could not handle it anymore. He could not hear her talk as if Abbie were already dead.

"Do not speak to me of what she would have wanted!" he spat out as he glared at her. "She. Is. Not. Dead!"

She gaped at him in stunned silence for a moment. Ichabod immediately regretted his outburst of anger and disrespect. They were misguided emotions. Jenny did not deserve his wrath. He quickly attempted to apologize until she lashed out angrily. "You think you're the only one that would give everything to get her back? Hmm? Do you know how many times I've considered using my not-so-honorable contacts to do whatever it took to get her back? But I haven't and I won't because I know that's not what she would have wanted. "

He shook his head and closed his eyes. He could not bear to hear Abbie being discussed in past tense, as if she would never be around to make those judgement calls herself. Instead of lashing out again, he kept his emotions restrained. He continued scanning the pages of his book quietly. Yet, somehow, Jenny managed to accurately perceive his true feelings on the matter.

She hissed, her voice breaking, "Screw you."

His jaw twitched as he glanced through the ancient pages of the book.

"Screw you, Crane! You walk around here thinking you're the only one in pain!" she bellowed. "My sister is gone and I don't know if I shall ever see her again. She was the only family I had left, not just your damn caretaker. Stop acting like this is even about you!"

He inhaled sharply and blinked at her as if she had gone completely mad. "Caretak–? Do not presume to understand the bond we shared," he snarled with a scowl. Holding up a finger, he continued, "And do not accuse me of making this about myself."

"Oh yeah? Then what would you call this? Obsessing over the same damn books every day, refusing to talk, making everybody feel like they need to walk on eggshells around you? You selfish bastard!" she cried, immediately covering her mouth after realizing all the hurtful things she had just spat at him.

He looked at her as the truth dawned on him. After a moment, he grudgingly closed his eyes, grimacing in shame.

"Tis not my…," his voice trailed softly before looking up at her.

He gulped visibly before lowering his gaze. He softly murmured, "I apologize. I have been selfish. You are in pain and I have been inconsiderate of your grief. I am sorry."

Jenny's chin trembled as she folded her arms defensively, hastily wiping away escaped tears.

"I…please, you must not lose hope. We shall find her." Ichabod looked at her pleadingly. He could not do this without her yet he could not bear to see her lose hope.

Jenny sneered disbelievingly, her voice watery with restrained tears. "How do you even know she's still alive? How do you know that if you open that tree again you won't see…?" she trailed off, her voice breaking. She paused for a moment to regain her composure. "The shard exploded, Crane. What if she–?" She looked at him in desperation.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head in frustration. No, it was not a possibility he could entertain. Abbie was not dead. She couldn't be. He cut her off, "No. No. She is alive. I saw her in my vision."

"What if it wasn't real? What if it really was just a dream? What if it was something trying to mislead us?"

Ichabod inhaled and shook his head sternly. He walked up to Jenny as confidently as possible. He could not demonstrate any weakness in this. Jenny could not lose hope. He could not lose hope.

"I refuse to believe it. I cannot believe it. I did not sleep through two centuries solely to spend the rest of my borrowed days without her. We shall find her. We shall save her," he said reassuringly, reaching out to grasp her hands, hoping she would believe him.

She squeezed his hands and shakily inhaled. She nodded decidedly, sniffling. "Okay, fine. We'll find her."

He softly smiled down upon her, pulling her in for a quick, reassuring embrace. After regaining their sense, they parted and she snorted sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that. I usually don't…"

"No need to apologize, Miss Jenny. You said what needed to be said."

"Crane, I…"

"Tis fine, Jenny. Everything shall be resolved."

She looked up at him hopefully. "Come what may?"

Those words. Nothing good could ever come from repeating those words. Ichabod nodded instead, choosing not to risk it. "Nothing, not even the devil himself, could stop us."

Jenny smiled, her previous tears gone, leaving only watery eyes in its wake. Ichabod's confidence grew, they were ready to take on hell itself to find her.

She nodded. "Alright, then, Crane. Let's go raise some hell."

* * *

 **Got it in just in time for the premiere. I am sooo ready for the rest of the season to be here! I miss Abbie and Ichabod.**

 **Sorry it took so long to update. I've recently gotten really into The Walking Dead and Richonne. There are some great fanfics on it out there, if you're interested. Makes me feel like I still got a long way to go with my writing.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter that took forever to write. I'd really love to hear what you have to say about it. I've been going without a beta for a while so there will be plentiful mistakes. Nonetheless, I hope it all makes sense.**

 **So, thanks again!**

 **Your super excited writer awaiting real-life Ichabbie,**

 **semul**


	14. Chapter 14

"Lieutenant…"

Abbie stilled, hearing the whisper behind her. She was kneeling on the dirt floor of her 'cave' assembling her weapons and counting how many rounds she had left when the whisper interrupted the silence. As per usual, her heart annoyingly skipped a beat.

Despite four months of torture and six months of solitude, hope that she would find somebody or that somebody would find her hadn't completely died away. When the voices in her head would start murmuring or when she'd hear the whispers sent to torment her, her heart betrayed her every time.

It was naïve to think that she would ever be rescued but hope had a nasty way of thriving in the most impossible conditions. It was like a stubborn weed. No matter how many times she tried to kill it, it managed to cheat death every time.

She rolled her eyes tiredly, refusing to turn around. "Really? We doing this again?" Her emotionless voice echoed throughout the cave.

"Lieutenant?"

She sighed and closed her eyes, deciding to ignore the whispers. It hadn't been the first time she'd heard the voices though she thought her ring had taken care of the crux of that problem. She glanced down at the gold band on her finger. Maybe the juice in it was wearing out. She narrowed her eyes. Typical. Just when she thought she'd come up with a surefire plan to escape this literal hellhole, her one hope of survival up and dies out on her.

It had taken her a while to realize it, but wearing the ring actually kept her somewhat hidden, safe, and stable. No ghosts or anything physically evil could find her while she wore it. When she decided to keep it as a permanent adornment, the voices in her head took a break from distracting her. The ring was vital to her survival. Or at least that's what she assumed since she'd escaped the tunnels and found this seemingly hidden cave. She rubbed its smooth, golden surface with her thumb. What she had once thought was a simple piece of jewelry turned out to be her salvation. Too bad she had to go through four months of agonizing torture to realize it. Her eye subtly twitched as she pushed back the painful memories.

"Lieutenant, is it truly you?"

She recognized that voice. She inhaled sharply, her eyelashes fluttering in disbelief. It sounded real. It wasn't the usual whispery wind or crying out in torture versions. _It couldn't? Could it?_ She slowly turned her head, squinting her eyes at the shimmering light emanating behind the familiar silhouette.

The apparition drew in a shaky breath and glided toward her. The sudden movement awakened her instincts. She quickly reached for her knife and held it up defensively, swiftly maneuvering into a crouching position.

"Stay back," she warned, ready to attack at the first sign of trouble.

The specter froze as he looked at her dejectedly. She narrowed her eyes. If she didn't know any better, it looked as if she'd hurt his feelings. Ghosts didn't have feelings, at least not the ones she'd encountered so far. _Must be a new model_ , she thought mordantly. She raised her eyebrow and stared at him challengingly, waiting for him to spout out the typical nonsensical shit they all did to throw her off her game.

He blinked at her unsurely before softly whispered, "Abbie?"

She glared. And there it was, her name. The one word that managed to pierce her heart every time. It gave her hope, reminded her of her former life, a life she no longer lived. If this had happened seven months ago, she would have broken down in sobs and clung to the belief that he was actually here to rescue her.

Things had definitely changed since then.

Living in isolation for the past six months had its perks. She could talk to herself without worrying about who was listening, train herself to resist reacting to her vulnerabilities, and, most importantly, she could overcome those things that made her weaker like hope and compassion. She was now well armed to take on any type of manipulation.

Though, this one felt different from the ghosts that once tortured her and the hallucinations that would materialize in her solitude. Shame and misery came off of him in waves. It was strange, nauseating, as if she'd invaded his emotions and could feel exactly what he was feeling. She tried to shake it off and focus on her anger.

She was about to tell him where he could shove his false sympathy but then the shimmering around him confirmed her suspicions: the figure was just another hallucination, not a ghost sent to torture her, not a real person here to save her.

She didn't understand why she couldn't get her brain to just accept the fact that they would always be hallucinations powered by her own masochistic imagination. Nobody was going to save her. For all anybody knew, Abbie Mills was dead. She eyed him distrustfully deciding whether to continue acknowledging his presence or ignore it and move on. She grudgingly decided to reply to her name, curious to see where the conversation, essentially with herself, would lead.

She stood carefully and eyed him as she sneered, "No shit."

The apparition gently smiled at her, overwhelmed with emotion. _Well, that was a first,_ she thought. A hallucination that was overjoyed to hear her dismissiveness. It looked at her in elated disbelief then around the dimly lit cave. She followed its gaze cagily. The walls were covered in her attempts to map out the realm she found herself in. She was no artist but felt overprotective of her work. She glared at him. He returned his gaze to her, his eyes studying her body as if searching for a chink in her proverbial armor. He was either looking for a physical vulnerability or eerily concerned about her well-being. Either way, she couldn't say which one was more disturbing.

After he appeared satisfied with his revisal, he shakily stuttered, "It is a relief to find you hale and hearty, Lieutenant."

Losing her patience, she got to the heart of the matter. "What do you want?"

After a moment of silence, he stuttered, "We never surrendered hope, Lieutenant. We've searched high and low. Tis time for you to return home."

She closed her eyes at her luck. Another rescue mission hallucination. Her mind could be viciously cruel at times. She pursed her lips and dispassionately glanced at the innocuous hallucination a final time before turning back to analyze her pitiful stash of weapons. She sheathed her knife. It wasn't enough. She'd need more weapons if she was going to make her escape. She sighed. She'd have to dip into her limited resources and figure out something.

"Lieutenant," the figure said, interrupting her thoughts, "I understand if you are upset. It has been weeks since you departed into this realm…"

The hair on her neck stood on end. Her hands curled into fists.

"Weeks?" Her incredulous voice bounced off the walls of her cave. The blatant lie nearly took her breath away. She angrily turned to glare at him. "Weeks?" she repeated shrilly, blinking in disbelief. This hallucination was insulting her intelligence. She may be in hell but she certainly hadn't lost track of time.

During her four months of torture, she distracted herself from the pain by keeping track of seconds through taps of her finger. After she'd escaped the tunnels, she was able to keep track of time using bags of sand. For this hallucination to up and say that she'd only been here a few weeks after everything she had endured, everything she had suffered, pissed her off to no end. He may be a figment of her imagination but he was going to get a piece of her mind.

The figure stilled sensing her ire, its hands twitching at its sides. The gesture triggered a distant memory in the back of her mind. She quickly pushed it away. Licking her dry lips aggressively, she snickered softly, "You're messing with me."

He looked at her with a confused expression on its face. She clenched her jaw. She couldn't believe she had to explain reality to a vison of her own making.

She spat out, "It hasn't been _weeks_. I've been here ten _fucking_ months."

The figure inhaled sharply. "Oh, Abbie…," it breathed woefully, reaching his hand out again.

She winced, backing away. "My name is Witness. And you, whatever the hell you are, need to leave."

She squeezed her eyes closed and pushed her palms against her temples, willing the vision to disappear. She didn't have time to entertain guests, even the imaginary kind. She had enough on her hands at the moment.

She opened her eyes. The figure anxiously stared back at her. She scoffed and rolled her eyes impatiently. _Why the hell wouldn't it go away?_ Maybe she was losing it. Horrible timing, but it would make sense. Months of suppressing trauma and being by herself were starting to take a toll on her.

"Do you not recognize me?" he asked weakly.

She frowned. _Clingy_ , she thought bitterly. The vision spoke to her as if he knew her. She could feel his sorrow. She grimaced before dismissively shaking her head. There was no time to be compassionate. Not even with her own messed up mind.

"No," she replied flatly, hoping it would quickly bring the strange hallucination to an end.

He nodded and visibly swallowed. She eyed him distrustfully. She hadn't come across such an anxious, determined hallucination before. It almost felt like it had a mind of its own.

"Very well," he responded, approaching her slowly. She narrowed her eyes. He raised his hands up in surrender.

"Please," he said, attempting to appeal to what was left of her good nature. He continued walking toward her with his hands up. "Our bond, our partnership..."

She raised her eyebrow and began circling him, trying to avoid being cornered. This was a stubborn one. It wasn't going to disappear anytime soon so she decided to indulge it. Maybe it would provide vital information that her subconscious had picked up on unknowingly. She decidedly nodded, examining the resistant vision.

"Partner?" she asked scathingly.

He stopped walking and followed her with his eyes as she circled him, gazing at her intensely. "Yes, we are a team."

She studied him carefully as she continued circling him as if he were her prey. "Huh. Are we?"

He nodded once, his movements fidgety.

She shook her head and sardonically smiled. This vision wanted to taunt her. Fine, she could play along. "Team implies a mission, a purpose. And as far as I'm concerned I've already fulfilled mine and am currently alone. Have been this entire time."

He closed his eyes. "Yes and I must beg for your forgiveness, Lieutenant. We tried everything. I…what is important is that I am here now and–"

She laughed scornfully and swiftly interrupted and pointed out, "You're not real. So, _no_ , you're not here."

He nodded resignedly. "Yes, I am afraid I am here in spirit form only. An astral projection. It was Miss Jenny's idea with the assistance of Master Corbin. However, we have found a way to bring you home–"

"Don't bother." She turned her back to him and crouched down to pick up her weapons. "I've survived on my own this far. I don't need you."

Though she knew it was a mistake to refuse help, even if it wasn't real, being in her currently compromised position, this figure – this man – awakened something inside her. Something strong yet fragile. Something she wanted to avoid.

Just as she prepared herself to get as far away from this thing as possible, he gently spoke. "Lieutenant."

She paused, hit with a sudden wave of sadness and desperation. It was as if his astral form, as he called it, was trying to reach out to her. She breathed slowly as she waited for it to pass. Then it spoke the one word that managed to reach deep within her tattered soul.

"Don't."

Suddenly, a whirlwind of memories filled her mind. Her temples throbbed. She gasped. It felt as if a knife had been shoved into her skull. She whimpered and fell on her arms and knees.

She breathed out painfully, finally remembering the name belonging to familiar hallucination. "Crane." She struggled for breath as not only her memories of him but memories of the trauma she'd endured overtook her senses. She screamed out in agony. She could hear his cries as she swam through the brutal flow of painful memories.

Those four long months of torture at the hands of the ultimate evil painfully slithered throughout her senses, poisoning her. Memories of her childhood, Jenny, Corbin and her parents soothed over the worst of the pain. Images of him and her rushed past her. Then, a single image of him filled her mind, pleading with her before she walked into this godforsaken realm to save them all from a fiery end.

Her entire body clenched in agony as the myriad of memories and emotions overtook her, recovering sensations in her that she'd thought had long been destroyed. Her humanity was finding its way back to her. Her soul was regenerating.

After a long while, most of the physical pain subsided though she could sense the delicate condition of her emotional and psychological state. She hugged her middle and rocked to soothe her trembling body. Although she deservedly felt like bursting into tears, she pushed herself to find the strength to resist. She could fall apart later, right now her partner was waiting for her. He was here to save her. Her heart slowed and once she'd caught her breath, she opened her eyes slightly and unsteadily tried to push herself off the floor.

"Abbie!"

She could hear Crane's hysterical voice through the pounding in her head. If she wasn't in such an unstable state, she would have cried out in pure joy at hearing his deep timbre. Instead, she swallowed back an urge to vomit and murmured groggily, "Crane?"

She stood shakily on her feet, balancing herself against the wall. She could feel his presence near her, as if reaching out to touch her.

"Oh, thank God. Are you…is everything–"

"Crane, Crane," she cringed at the volume of his voice near her ear. She held up her hand, cutting him off, "Stop yelling."

He breathed in relief and smiled, hesitantly reaching out to her as if touch her. She cautiously glanced up at him from the side of her eyes and flashed a reassuring grin. "I'm good. I just…forgot for a second but I'm, I'm good now." She nodded, attempting to reassure them both.

He nodded trustingly and lowered his arm. Once all her senses had returned to her, she could immediately tell this Crane was unlike the others. He wasn't a ghost sent to taunt her or a hallucination she made up in her head, it was him. And, yet, it wasn't him.

"How do I know it's really you?" she asked cautiously, desperately wanting to believe it was him.

"I believe referring to you as 'leftenant' and providing a customary fist bump would be in accordance with our usual greeting. However, a fist bump would be near impossible given that I am presently in my astral form," he stated plainly, gesturing to his transparent self.

She hesitantly reached out. Her hand slid over his jacket. Instead of feeling the rough fabric against her fingertips, she felt nothing. Her heart fell. He was her Crane but he wasn't really here. Shaking off her disappointment, she peeked up at him. "So you, uh, you're not really here, are you?"

"I am afraid not, Lieutenant. I am here solely in spirit."

She nodded knowingly, trying to hide her disappointment. What she wouldn't do to wrap her arms around him this very moment, to bury her face in his firm chest and breathe in that familiar mixture of his natural essence and her laundry soap on his shirt. She swallowed back a lump in her throat. Seeing him here with her reminded her of how much she ached to go back to her life, to feel human again.

She wanted to breath real air, see the sky, feel water against her skin, soak in the heat of the sun, sleep under the dark blanket of night, hear the sweet notes of her favorite songs. She wanted to live. Nevertheless, she wouldn't take this for granted. She would be grateful for the small ray of normalcy her partner's presence provided her. She gazed at him, waiting for him to explain why he was here.

Sensing her anticipation, he quickly explained the reason for his astral form. "Ah, yes, I bring with me a spell that shall return you home."

She stood stunned, unable to react. That word "home". She'd given up hope of ever going back but here it was, the impossible, a miracle. She inhaled and blinked her wide eyes. After a moment, she furrowed her brow. "A spell?" she asked cautiously, daring to feel hope for the first time in a long time.

"Yes, we discovered an encoded message in Martha Washington's letters, the ones we uncovered at my formal burial sight. If we are successful, it shall open a momentary portal to our world along the cross section of ley lines, the same ones in which we opened the door to purgatory. However, time is of the essence. We must make haste if the spell is to work."

She let out a relieved chuckle as tears filled her eyes. After all this time, she was going home. She shakily inhaled and exhaled slowly through her mouth, holding back her the sobbing she could feel forming deep within her chest. It was time. It was finally time to go home. She licked her lips and nodded. "Alright, good. Haste is good."

Crane nodded firmly. "I shall recite the words and you will need to repeat them exactly. Once you have recited the spell, the portal shall open. You must pass through it quickly for it is but momentary. Hold our bond in your mind. It shall lead you to our realm."

She nodded eagerly. There was no time to prepare herself. She was going to have jump right into this. She couldn't hesitate. "Alright, let's do this."

He looked at her for a final confirmation. She nodded. He began reciting the spell, she repeated it trying her best to keep her voice from breaking. A mixture of fear, excitement, and uncertainty plagued her thoughts. She cast them aside as best she could and thought of Crane. Her heart fluttered in anticipation. She focused on all of the moments they'd gone through. The first time they met. The first time she realized they were destined to travel the same path as Witnesses. The times she saved his life. The times he saved hers. His tender gazes, his soft touches, his booming voice, his reserved smile. Her heart filled with a sense of peace as she felt her soul join with his. The portal appeared before her. Her heart leapt with joy as she tentatively walked through the swirling light. Darkness engulfed her senses. For a brief moment, she felt utter nothingness. Then, her body reverberated to life as she was thrown to the ground.

She landed on her stomach, her cheek against the earth. She groaned, keeping her eyes closed as she dug her fingers into the soil and leaves beneath her. The fresh earth filled her nostrils with its familiar musk. She opened her eyes slightly and cautiously looked at her left hand grasping at the earth. The gold band upon her finger shimmered red before disappearing into her skin. She swallowed thickly and flipped herself over. She was home. After all those months, she was finally home.

A watery smile crept upon her face. She fell back against the ground. Laughter bubbled inside her as her stomach flip flopped in elation. She shakily chuckled, her body trembling with adrenaline. She felt her skin spark with frantic energy. She wanted to laugh, cry, shout, growl, hug something, and punch something all at once. Her breaths came in short gasps as laughter soon turned into dry sobs. She covered her face with her arm and shook off her need to cry. She didn't want to overwhelm herself or else she'd never get up. She took a calming breath, preparing herself to stand upon her shaking legs.

She slowly stood and took in the beauty she'd once taken for granted around her. Trees surrounded her, their branches swaying gently in the cool breeze. The warm sun's rays peeked through the cloudy sky. She took a deep breath and nodded with certainty. This was home, not a fake perversion of it. She repeated it over and over in her head, trying to convince herself of her reality. _This is home. This is home. This is home._

Once she felt stable enough to walk, she began recognizing the familiarity of where she stood. She was in the same place in the woods where her and Crane had once stood, ready to travel to purgatory together. She knew her way back to town from here. Yet, she stood quietly, taking in her surroundings.

It was all familiar and yet different somehow. Something inside her was struggling to accept reality. She took a deep breath and pushed down the uneasy feeling. She didn't have time to focus on her unjustifiable misgivings, she needed to find her way home.

As she walked through the trees, she suddenly heard the faint familiar rumble of a truck. Her breath quickened as she began running toward the sound. Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes and streaked down the sides of her face as she sprinted toward the glorious rumble. As much of an effort as she was putting into staying strong, her breath came in uncontrollable sobs.

Finally, the red truck came into her view. She stopped suddenly, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her shaky breath. The truck stopped and the door flew open. She caught her sister's wide eyed expression. She closed her eyes and fell to her knees. The last wall keeping her emotions intact came crumbling down. Her body sagged in complete relief as the tears streamed down her face. Jenny ran to her frantically and slid on the ground as she pulled her into her arms.

Abbie clung to her baby sister for dear life. Her body racked with violent sobs. She'd never felt so much emotion in her entire life at seeing another person. She muffled her cries against Jenny's shoulder.

"Jenny," she gasped over and over again in between sobs, terrified that she would open her eyes and she would disappear.

"Shh," Jenny susurrated in a broken voice, cradling her sister's frail body. "It's okay, Abs. I'm here. I'm here."

Abbie gripped her firmly, desperate for her sister's reassurance, desperate to feel her arms around her. Jenny gripped her just as tightly as the two reunited sisters cried weeks, months, years worth of emotions.

Everything Abbie had held locked tight in her heart, came pouring out through her tears as she frantically held her sister. Dormant sensations awakened within her and spread throughout her body, overwhelming her senses. Everything hurt yet it was a welcome hurt, a hurt that reminded her that she was alive.

The two sisters tightly embraced each other in the middle of the woods that had once so cruelly snatched away their childhood, destroyed their very lives. They cried for all their spoken and unspoken truths. They cried for the pain they hid away in their hearts. They cried for the joy they felt at their renewed bond. They cried until the truth completely sunk in.

Abbie was finally home.

* * *

 **I finished the chapter. Finally, right? I really wanted to focus on the sibling relationship because we just haven't seen a lot of it this back half of the season. Though, things are looking good for our show so far, wouldn't you say? This last episode "Sins of the Father" had me like whoa. Good stuff!**

 **Anyway, now I'm just not sure where I want to take this story. Should I go into a reunion with Crane or should I continue filling in plot holes from the show? What do you think?**

 **Leave a comment or a message. And please know that I truly appreciate your feedback. I can't tell you how much it means to me when I read your lovely words of appreciation and questions and fair points and suggestions and simple words of encouragement. You are all just so amazing. I'm just so damn lucky to be a teeny, tiny part of this incredible fandom.**

 **Thank you and I hope to hear from you soon!**

 **Your humble writer,**

 **semul**


	15. Chapter 15

Hot water droplets slid down Abbie's face as the water sprayed across her shoulders. She stared at the tile in front of her, lost in thought. The steam filled her lungs as she took in steady breaths, trying to warm her shivering body. This was not how she imagined it was going to be like. Coming back wasn't easy. Things were...different.

After her reunion with Jenny, she had immediately asked for Crane. Seeing him in the cave, unable to touch him, made her feel more anxious than anything. She needed to know that he was okay, to reassure herself that he was real.

Jenny explained that he was still in his trance back at the archives with Joe. Since his astral form needed to find its way back to his body, it would be a while until he came to. Abbie did her best to hide her disappointment. She needed something to ground her and right now, no offense to her sister, the only person who could that was him. Hell, he was her own personal – albeit invisible – Jiminy Cricket for the past ten months.

Though she'd briefly forgotten who he was, his voice had been the only thing that had kept her sane. She'd have conversations with that voice in her head assuming it was just some strange type of hallucination she'd conjured up. Those conversations had saved her from countless moments of despair. Now that her memory had returned, she wondered how she could have possibly forgotten him.

That bout of memory loss had scared the hell out of her. She'd even forgotten her own damn name. Her mind must have really been protecting her from a whole lot of hell if it went that far. Either that or she was starting down the same road mama took. It was why she was so desperate to see him. Crane was the only person in this world who could reassure her that she hadn't completely lost her mind. She needed to hear him, see him, and touch him. She needed all of him to assure herself that she was truly home.

But then Jenny suggested she eat, shower, maybe get in a nap, all things that she had been craving for the past ten months. Jenny would call Joe once she'd settled in and he'd bring Crane over when he woke up. Though she wasn't sure if she was in the right state of mind to eat or sleep, she decided to reluctantly follow her sister's insistent, verging on demanding, advice. She didn't want Jenny to worry.

After being alone for so long, she didn't know how well she would handle being treated as if she were incapable of taking care of herself. So if that meant putting on an act for the time being, then so be it. In any case, a hot shower sounded good. Maybe the gnawing uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach would fade away if she got back into her routine. At least that's what the logic in her mind led her to believe.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

She blinked out of her trance, pushing down her unease, and began washing as if on autopilot, willing her thoughts to disappear. She popped open her shampoo bottle and inhaled its flowery scent. The scent that had once calmed her nerves now stung her nostrils with its nauseating, potent aroma. She winced as she quickly lathered some of it in hair, roughly scraping her nails against her scalp hoping to feel some sort of sensation. Nothing. Washing it out, she conditioned her curls hoping the action would trigger some sort of gratification in caring for her neglected hair but it never came. The fresh scent of her bar of soap filled her nostrils as she rubbed ten months' worth of filth from her skin. She vigorously scoured her skin with the washcloth hoping the pain would faze her. Nothing again.

The bar of soap and washcloth fell from her hands. Her raw skin tingled as the water continued raining down on her head, dripping down her naked body. A violent sob unexpectedly erupted from her chest. She covered her mouth to muffle the stream of shallow breaths that followed. She leaned her forehead and palm against the shower stall as her body shook with uncontrollable sobs. The water mixed with her tears as she hunched against the dewy wall. She squeezed her eyes shut, the hot flow of tears escaping the corners of her eyes. Her mouth opened as she wailed out in silence.

This wasn't what she expected. None of it was what she expected. Everything was different. Seeing, touching, tasting, hearing – even smelling – all of it was messed up. This wasn't home. It didn't feel like home. She thought she would feel relief, a sense of peace and comfort but it was the complete opposite. She felt utterly out of place. Not even the prospect of seeing her partner could snap her out of it.

Instead, she found herself bawling against the shower stall, hyperventilating, and wishing she could disappear. She didn't expect her return to be easy but she sure as hell didn't expect it to break her.

"Abbie?"

She could hear her sister's concerned voice from the other side of the door. The last thing she wanted was Jenny to come in and catch her looking like this. She did her best to calm her erratic breaths and hold back her tears. After several tries and fails, she was finally able to open her swollen, but dry, eyes and calm her sobs to mere hiccups. She shakily replied, hoping it was enough to pacify her sister, "I'm okay."

"Are you sure? I can come in there if you–"

"No!" Abbie replied frantically. She just needed some time to compose herself. She didn't need Jenny hovering over her. She steadily explained, holding back her snivels. "No, I'm good. I'll be out...I'll be out in a few."

After a weighty pause, her sister responded hesitantly, "Alright, just…just let me know if you need anything."

Abbie shut her eyes tightly. What she needed was to be alone. She didn't want to feel like she had to put on a show for anybody. She just wanted to curl into a ball and hide in a dark corner until all these feelings passed. But hiding wasn't an option. It would only bring more attention to herself.

She heard more voices downstairs. Her heart skipped a beat. _Crane._ She quickly rinsed away the soap still on her body, shut off the water, and climbed out of the shower. She roughly dried herself off and paused in front of the mirror. She grimaced at the reflection staring back at her. Though the torture she had suffered had certainly taken its toll on her, there was no evidence it had even occurred. No bruises, scratches, nothing. And though she hadn't slept or eaten in nearly a year, her body remained the same. She quickly turned around. The physical signs may not exist but she knew she was broken. She didn't need to look in the mirror to remind herself of that.

She gingerly pulled on a pair of clean underwear, socks, sweats, and a t-shirt, the soft fabric momentarily bringing her comfort she hadn't felt in months. She sighed in relief. At least, her clothes still provided her with some sense of comfort. She gathered her discarded dirty clothes and shoved them in the small trash can. She didn't plan on ever wearing or seeing that outfit again, too many bad memories. She quickly finished her beauty/hygiene routine before turning toward the door and reaching out to grip the knob. Pausing, she stared at the golden sheen of it. Flashbacks threatened to escape from the edges of her fragile mind. She pushed them back. She didn't have time to break down, her family was waiting for her. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Ichabod paced at the foot of the stairs, repeatedly glancing up at the closed bathroom door. Abbie had returned. She was safe, alive, and currently in the process of washing up. His impatience gnawed at him. He needed to see her. Now. He needed to feel her, hear her, smell her, and touch her. If he could, he would go even as far as to taste her but that would be entirely inappropriate given the circumstances. He would have to settle for satisfying all his other senses. He glanced again at the closed door. He'd never felt so anxious in his life.

"Crane, sit down. You look like a caged lion."

He furrowed his brow at Jenny but continued to pace. The energy inside him would not allow him to simply sit and wait. After seeing her in that other realm, alone and on the verge of being lost forever, he could barely withstand another moment without assuring himself of her very existence. He ached for her with all of his soul. It was nearly impossible to contain. His hands fluttered at his side.

Master Corbin stood next to Jenny, concurring with her assessment. "Yeah man, sit. Breathe. You're like on a whole other level of intense right now."

He paused and looked them. They weren't wrong. His nerves were unsettled, his heart beat as fast as a jackrabbit's being chased through the forest. He couldn't resist. After months of separation, he was about to see her again. It was a momentous occasion to say the least.

He shakily inhaled and nodded. Regardless, he must achieve some semblance of calm though his entire being burned in anticipation. He did not want to startle or frighten her with his fervor. He sat against the edge of the sofa and attempted to compose himself as best he could, impatiently awaiting her reappearance.

Jenny leaned against her forearms on the kitchen counter and eyed at him carefully. "Have you thought about what you're going to say?"

He looked at her as if at a complete loss. Of course he knew he wanted to see her, hold her, but he had not considered the words he would speak. There were far too many emotions he desired to convey. He swallowed thickly. "I…I have no idea."

Corbin smirked. "Well, that's a first."

Jenny gave Joe a look of disapproval before looking upon him once more. "Just keep it simple. She's...things are different. You know what that's like." She gave him a knowing look. "Take it slow," she warned.

Understanding her insinuation, he sharply inhaled and nodded. "Of course."

"We don't want her to close up," she further cautioned.

He indignantly looked at her. "I assure you that is most certainly not..."

Suddenly the door to the bathroom opened and a billow of steam poured out. He immediately stood and searched the top of the stairs.

Abbie hesitantly walked into view as if she were a delicate creature stepping into precarious territory. As beautiful as ever, as perfect as ever. She clutched one arm protectively in front of her as her eyes nervously darted around her until they landed on him.

"Abbie," he whispered breathlessly. His heart clenched in his chest, his breath seeped from his lungs. He'd never felt so helpless and relieved in all his life.

She blinked at him stoically until Joe walked toward the steps, cutting in front of him. She changed her focus to Joe. He smiled gently at her and tilted his head with familiarity. "Hey, Abs."

She knit her brow and smiled at him as she made her way down the steps. "Joey," she replied as they met on the steps and she pulled him into a fierce hug.

Ichabod blinked from his trance. He breathed deeply. This was certainly not the impression he wanted to give her upon their reunion, that of an inept fool solely capable of ogling her from her afar. He swallowed nervously and stood at attention hoping to appear more composed, his twitching hands betraying him.

She pulled away from Joe and rested her hand upon his cheek. He rested his hand atop of hers as they contemplated each other for a moment. She smiled tightly. He took her hand and led her down the rest of the stairs. Abbie stopped as she reached the bottom of the staircase. Joe let go of her hand and walked back to Jenny.

Abbie gazed at him. Ichabod nearly forgot to breathe.

She was beautiful. Her hair had grown and her natural curls now rested upon her shoulders. Her body showed no evidence of the months of suffering she had endured yet he knew it had taken a toll on her spirit. She did not exude the confidence or carefree attitude she once possessed. It was if the light that had once burned brightly within her had dimmed to a mere flicker. And, yet, she stood there alive, resilient, and more beautiful than the loveliest of blooms. Broken, whole, maimed, unscathed – she was divine.

She gave him a half smile as her eyes welled up in restrained emotion. He inhaled sharply and took two long strides toward her before pulling her into his arms in a tight embrace. He buried his face in her neck cradling the back of her head gently as she buried her face against his shoulder and gripped onto him tightly. He straightened his back to feel her fully against him, lifting her off the ground. He could feel her body tremble as they clung to each other, indifferent to the stares of their audience. They both squeezed their eyes tightly refusing to release months of unshed tears, daring only to revel in each other's presence. Her stockinged feet dangled off the ground, yet she continued clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

After a long moment, he reluctantly bent down to place her back on her feet. He soothingly rubbed circles on her back, coaxing her to release her grip. She eased her grip but continued to keep her hands firmly upon his arms in a refusal to let him go. They observed each other carefully as if assessing any damage.

Once her eyes had completely swept over him, she nodded firmly, satisfied with her inspection. He continued to hold her as close to him as she would allow, not thinking twice about the impropriety. She was here in his arms and she was real. He could not spare a single thought on anything else.

She gazed up at him silently yet her watery eyes told him everything he needed to know. "We made it," she said in a fragile voice.

He nodded silently, gazing upon her with a million thoughts on the tip of his tongue. Weeks of painful yearning and uncertainty had taken their toll. The words he felt in his heart seemed like too much and not enough. They failed to capture everything he needed to express to her. How could he tell her that his heart, mind, and soul had surrendered themselves to her the instant he'd laid eyes upon her once more? How could he convey to her that he was now a man entirely at her mercy?

 _No_ , he thought resolutely. He mustn't utter a single word of it. _Not yet._ She must remain wholly ignorant to his current plight. She deserved time to heal, time to recover from her torment without concerning herself with trivial matters such as his heart.

Thusly, he gently took her hands in his own. He peered into her large, brown eyes and managed to rasp out a single coherent word, providing his lieutenant with the reassurance she so desperately sought. "Indeed," he replied softly, momentarily quieting the love in his soul.

 _Hours later…_

Abbie stared at the glimmering stars above her in a wonder she hadn't felt since she was a kid. She sat cross-legged on a blanket in the middle of her grassy backyard, quietly contemplating the nighttime sky. Naturally, it led to reflecting on her existence thus far.

She'd lived to see the impossible in her short years of life. She'd survived it all yet wondered if this was what her life would always be: a series of events fated to bring her pain and misery? Would she continue to reprise the reoccurring role of resigned masochist? Would she always be alone, cut off from experiencing anything that could possibly bring her long-lasting happiness?

She studied the glittering lights above her and sighed deeply. Being deprived of such quiet beauty had been just another form of torture she had endured. She had lost all hope of ever enjoying a starry night and yet here she was surrounded by it and wondering what other kind of torture was in store for her. The beauty diminishing with each passing question.

Thinking back to her last days on this earth, before disappearing into the hellish abyss, she realized how complicate her life had become because of her refusal to share herself. She'd always found it easy to blame her guardedness on the years of trauma she'd experienced but she knew it was just an excuse to avoid getting hurt. She knew she was strong but she never believed she was strong enough to withstand the pain that came with surrendering her heart to somebody.

Love, commitment, openness were things that she didn't think she was capable of sharing with another person because of the fear of what she'd get in return. Painful memories and the never-ending horror stories of love gone wrong kept her walls up and her heart closed off. She firmly believed it was what was best for her and for the man she would manage to hurt if she allowed herself to open up.

 _"Come now, Lieutenant. Do you truly believe such falsehoods?"_

She knit her brow. She looked around suspiciously. She was completely by herself. Jenny, Joe, and Crane were still inside cleaning up from dinner. She blinked rapidly and exhaled steadily, straightening her back. _Maybe it was the wind_ , she thought dismissively with a nod.

 _"How could you ever doubt your strength?"_

It was that voice. The one that had kept her sane all those months. It was back. She licked her lips nervously and quietly murmured, "Go away. I don't need you anymore."

Suddenly, it changed its tone. It didn't sound like Crane anymore. It started to sound like…her?

 _"So what? Are you going to shut yourself off again? Pretend? Runaway? Or how about we just go rob another pharmacy and hope another knight in shining armor comes and gives you a second chance at life?"_

Her eyes shifted uneasily as she swallowed thickly. If she was starting to hear voices, it would be in her best interest to make it seem like she wasn't. Though, she knew for a fact that if she ignored it, it would only get worse. So she cleared her throat and inconspicuously whispered her response, "No, of course not."

 _"Yeah, that's what I thought."_

She rolled her eyes.

 _"You know that saying? That saying that goes on about doing things over and over again and expecting a different result? We've really mastered that down to a perfection, haven't we?"_

She furrowed her brow in annoyance, careful to keep her voice down, "The hell are you talking about?"

 _"Let me ask you something, what's the point of having a heart if you never use it? What's the point of having a life if you never live it? God, Abbie! For once in your life, just let go! Stop trying to control every goddamn thing in your life!"_

"I-I'm not."

 _"You're even trying to control this imaginary conversation."_

"It's not that simple. I can't just…"

 _"Yes, it is! And, yes, you can! You need this. You need him. If you let this pass by, you know you'll never try again. You know that. And then you'll end up regretting it every day for the rest of your life. Trust me, I know."_

"Then what do I do?"

 _"You know the answer to that. Live your life to the fullest. Don't accept anything less than your happiness. And stop thinking you're alone. You're not. And you never will be."_

The voice faded away. The sounds of chirping crickets filled the air once again. She sighed resignedly. It was all true, everything her inner voice had said. She'd accepted the fact that she would always be alone, that her fate would be full of misery. She'd accepted that she would never be enough and that love was something she needed to avoid at all costs. But even if that were true, nothing was stopping her from enjoying the moments that made it all worth it, to live her life to the fullest.

She shut her eyes tightly. _Living life to the fullest._ She never understood what that meant. She'd clung to such a narrow view of the world all these years. She had never learned to live life to fullest because she didn't realize how full life could be. She never realized how fleeting it could be.

Seeing her family again, seeing Crane, it awoke something inside her. Yes, she was a Witness. Yes, she had an impossible responsibility. But she was not alone. Her life would eventually lead her to some unknown, predestined fate but it was still a life full of possibilities. She needed to fulfill those possibilities, damn her past, damn her future. It was all in front of her, ripe for the taking.

"Lieutenant?"

The solidity of the voice let her know that this time it wasn't a hallucination. She turned and saw Crane out of the corner of her eye pause at the doorway. He'd taken off his coat and unlaced the top of his shirt, his chest peeking out just the way she liked it.

He hadn't changed much either these past few months, weeks, besides a trim to his hair – something she was sure Jenny had some sort of influence on – and that he had lost a few pounds. He must have laid off the soda and jelly beans. Although, the bags under his eyes and the fact that the house looked like it had remained untouched told her everything else she needed to know. It had not been easy on him. She had felt it in the frantic hug he'd given her. He'd missed her.

She turned back around and looked down at her hands in her lap. That simple fact urged her to keep going. To realize that if there was ever a right moment for anything, this would be it.

"Are they gone?" she asked quietly.

He stepped out on the porch, his boots resounding against the wood as he closed the screen door behind him. He replied solemnly, "Yes, Miss Jenny and Joe have gone home for the evening."

She nodded silently and tilted her head back up at the stars. She could sense his apprehension even though he stood completely still.

After a moment of unnerving silence, he stuttered, "Pardon the intrusion, Lieutenant. I should have…if you need me to–"

"No, wait. Come here." She turned back to him and gave him a half-hearted smile, patting the empty space next to her.

After a few moments, she felt him quietly take his place next her on the blanket. She turned her body toward him, making room for him. He glanced at her unsurely before sitting down cross legged in front of her. He straightened his back as much as possible, his hands resting on his knees. He quietly observed her as she regarded him in the same way she had gazed at the stars.

"You saved me."

"T'was a combined effort."

"You risked your soul, Crane."

He looked down at his folded legs, pieces of his now shorter hair falling over his eyes. He raised his head, flipping his hair out of his eyes. He searched her eyes, as if he were struggling to find the right words to say to her. She felt her stomach flip flop in anticipation.

After a moment, he straightened his neck, as he informed her, hesitant at first, "In all candor, Lieutenant, whilst you were away, I spent every waking hour endeavoring to bring you home. An undertaking that required absolute dedication. So, believe me when I say, a mere journey through the different planes of reality was of no imposition to my soul."

She half-heartedly smiled. To him, it may have felt like part of his duty as her partner to sacrifice everything to find her but to her, it meant more. Hearing him say what she had already assumed only managed to confirm her suspicions. He was truly selfless when it came to her.

She took a deep breath. She needed to tell him how far she'd gone to keep him with her all those months. It was time she admitted to him how much he meant to her. She closed one eye before looking up at him uneasily, forcing herself to say the words. "You know, you were there with me the entire time. I'd talk to you. Not you you, of course, but, you know, I know what you would say and how you would say it. It kept me from losing myself. It was kind of like you were my Wilson."

He drew his eyebrows together, attempting to process her reference. She smiled tightly before somberly adding, "At least, during the first months I was there."

He wordlessly acknowledged her meaning. He had witnessed her temporary memory loss first-hand. She looked at him carefully. "Then you were gone. Like I forgot you had even existed. When you found me, I was getting ready to take my chances on finding an escape. I was preparing to die."

He closed his eyes as if in shame. "Lieutenant, I understand I should have made more of an effort to find you. I –"

"Crane, Crane. I'm not looking for an apology. You did everything you could. Jenny, Joe, you all did your best. It's all I could have asked for. What I'm trying to say is…" her voice trailed as she looked at him, searching his eyes for answers that weren't there. Her heart beat uncontrollably. Her insecurities crept in. Maybe he didn't feel the same. What if she ruined it? No, she couldn't do it. She just couldn't take that risk.

She looked at him one last time before closing her eyes tiredly. "I don't know what I'm trying to say," she muttered.

He nodded, averting his gaze. He looked defeated, disappointed even. _No. This was wrong._ Chickening out was not an option. She couldn't just dismiss it all before she even tried. She huffed determinedly, changing her mind. "No, yes, I do."

He looked up at her apprehensively, a flicker of hope reigniting in his eyes. She took a deep breath and looked down at her fidgeting fingers.

"I had a lot of time to think about things. To realize what's important. And I came to see that there are things missing in my life." She looked up at him warily. "It's like I've said in the past, our life as Witnesses, it leaves no room for complications. Keeping friends or relationships, it isn't easy. Our bond comes before anyone or anything else."

He looked at her questioningly, fear and uncertainty swimming in his eyes.

She continued resolutely, "But I can't be a bystander to my own life. I can't watch everything pass me by. I want complicated. I want friends. I want a relationship. Our bond, our mission, shouldn't impede that."

He looked at her as if coming to terms with what she said. He blinked tiredly and nodded, avoiding her gaze. "I understand."

She knit her brow. "You do?" _Well, that was…easy_ , she thought uncertainly, though by the looks of it, he wasn't reacting the way she thought he would.

He nodded, avoiding eye contact. "You deserve to live your life as you wish. Our bond, mission, should not be a hindrance in your pursuit."

Furrowing her brow even deeper, she responded, doubt tinging her tone, "S'right."

He tightly smiled at her and sighed dejectedly.

She raised her eyebrows, her mouth forming a perfect 'o'. Her eyelids fluttered in disbelief. "Wow, okay. Am I getting my signals crossed or is this not what you want?" she asked defensively. She'd just opened her damn heart to him and he seemed as excited as she did when she had a giant pile of paperwork to file.

He closed his briefly. "I want…," he began despondently. He looked at her longingly before unenthusiastically resuming, "I solely desire your happiness, Lieutenant."

 _Wait a second. This is what somebody would say if they were getting rejected_ , she thought. She squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her head as she tried to process their conversation. Okay, there may have been some bits in there that could have been misinterpreted. But did Crane really think she was rejecting him?

"Wait. Are we on the same page right now?" she asked in confusion.

He looked at her and furrowed his brow when he heard the bafflement in her tone.

She widened her eyes, trying to get him to catch her drift. "I'm saying we should be together. You know, give us a chance?"

His lips parted. His mouth bobbed open and closed for a while until he managed to say, "Us?"

"Yeah, unless…"

"You mean…?" He nodded his head as if processing what she was trying to say.

She raised her eyebrows in confirmation.

"Oh," he said in realization. Once it sunk in, his eyes widened. "Oh!"

She smirked.

"Of course! You meant _us_. You and I. Together?"

She bit her lip and nodded. There were moments when the quick-witted, grumpy Crane gave way to this version of him. Not that she enjoyed seeing him struggle to comprehend things but she sure as hell got a kick out of seeing his eyes light up that moment that things all came together for him.

"As in a social… _intimate relationship_?" he asked nodding his head in confirmation, unrestrained hope exuding from his every pore, as he attempted to confirm that they were truly thinking the same thing.

She held up her curled fingers to her mouth, holding back a smile. "I don't think I've ever seen you do this. It's like watching a webpage buffer."

He smiled softly, closing his eyes at her teasing. "I am…I simply…are you certain?" He searched her eyes in restrained eagerness.

She nodded blearily, folding her hands in her lap. A smile threatened to erupt on his face but he bit his lip and forced himself to knit his brow. He reached for her hands and searched her gaze. "Is this, do you think this is perhaps a bit… sudden?"

She looked at him knowingly. "We've shared a sacred bond for years and are currently living under the same roof, Crane. I'd say we've bypassed the conventional steps of a typical relationship. Don't you?"

He smirked and nodded in agreement.

She looked up at him, still sensing his hesitancy. "Why? Do you think we're rushing into it?"

He breathed in carefully, as if preparing himself to reveal a secret. She shifted uneasily. He was hiding something from her. Nothing good came from lying to each other but she did her best to withhold judgement. He gazed at her meaningfully, holding her hands tightly in his own. She braced herself.

"There is something I must say before we…before this has had a chance to bloom. I…," he looked at her painfully. "I have kept something from you."

She looked at him silently, panic closing up her throat.

He continued, "Our lives, our very fates, have been entwined before we even met. The tablet I retrieved from my family's tomb, it decreed that the two Witnesses of God were of one soul and were preordained to eternal devotion to one another."

She knit her brow.

"I chose not to reveal this to you because I wanted you to follow your own path. I did not want it to influence any of your decisions."

She nodded in understanding. She had no idea about the tablet's prophecy but, honestly, it didn't matter. Fate or destiny, it would always have something planned for her. In the end, it didn't matter. She would continue to make the tough choices regardless of what some ancient prediction said about her. What mattered to her was what he felt. Was what they had born from a sense of duty or was it truly genuine?

She looked at him carefully wishing her profiling skills would kick in and just tell her what she needed to know. They didn't. She asked him tentatively, hoping for the answer she sought, "Has it influenced yours?"

He blinked at her in disbelief, as if he had not expected her to forgive him so easily. He searched her eyes and only found worry, concern that what they had wasn't real. He inhaled deeply and squeezed her hands, ready to remove any trace of doubt. "The tablet merely served to reignite the hope that I could one day be worthy of your devotion. It did not influence my regard for you because those affections have long been living within me, evolving with each passing day. Now, my heart beats solely when you are near. My soul seeks your peace, recognizing that it is never fully complete until it is by your side. My very being cannot seek respite from basking in your divine essence. Through all these centuries, against the impossible, I have truly found my better half. To put it simply, I...I have fallen utterly and profoundly in love with you, Grace Abigail Mills."

She looked down at their entwined hands wordlessly, heat rising up to her cheeks, tears threatening to spill. Leave it to Crane to completely erase any doubt from her mind so elegantly and thoroughly. She blinked furiously, exhaling in relief. He loved her. He loved her as much as she did him. It was a lot to process. It would take her a while to come to terms with it but it would take even more before she could say it to him. Her mind and soul were still fragile. She'd need to find her way back before she could reciprocate everything he'd laid at her feet. She gave him a small smile. "While I appreciate your enthusiasm, Crane, I need you to understand that all that time away took its toll. I'm not quite ready to give you everything. I need to find myself again. It's going to be a long road ahead. And I just need…I need slow."

He smiled and bowed his head in understanding. "Of course, as glacially slow as you desire."

She gave him an admonishing smile. They looked down at their entwined hands for a moment, getting used to the feel of each other, the new sense of togetherness. An idea popped into her head. Although she wasn't ready to break out the vows, she was ready to show him how much he meant to her. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and raised her eyebrow. "Shall we seal this accord?"

He raised his as well, uncertainty flitting across his expression. She released his hands and repositioned herself until she was sitting on her knees. She took a deep breath. Realizing her intentions, he tilted his head cautiously. "Lieutenant…"

"No, I need to do this."

He looked at her patiently, nodding once. She rose on her knees and moved closer to him. She held out her hands. He took hold of them. They were warm and strong, she gripped them tightly. She hoped the terror she was feeling wasn't showing on her face. He smiled gently up at her.

Flashes of the last time they'd been this close came to the forefront of her mind. That night in the cabin. It seemed like a lifetime ago. That moment had changed everything for them. It made her realize that she would never be satisfied with just being his partner or friend. Despite everything they'd gone through, despite the fact that she'd tried everything to extinguish it, that unexpected yearning still burned within her.

She exhaled slowly, her eyelids fluttering. She released her grip from his and rested her hands on his bearded jaw. She leaned forward until she could feel his hot breath merging with the cool night air on her lips. He tilted his head back slightly and closed his eyes in anticipation.

She lowered her gaze to his slightly parted pink lips. She gently pressed hers against his experimentally. They were soft, tender against her own, the prickling sensation of his beard tickling her top lip and chin. She closed her eyes as she applied a bit more pressure, slowly moving them against his. His breath hitched as she tilted her head further to get a better angle. She deepened the kiss, pulling his face closer to hers. He leaned forward and a moan escaped him as he rested his hands on her hips, sending a tingling sensation straight to her toes.

She could feel her heart beat wildly in her chest. Her knees wobbled beneath her weight. She was losing herself. It was too fast. She quickly pulled away, clenching her hands into fists at her side. She kept her eyes closed as she caught her breath.

After a moment, he reached toward her with one hand to cup her cheek, his thumb gently rubbing her cheekbone. "Abbie," he said softly.

She licked her lips and swallowed thickly. She could still feel him on her lips, prompting her to resist the temptation of going back for more. She'd only had one taste and she was already addicted. _How?_

"Lieutenant," he murmured quietly. She opened her eyes. He looked back at her adoringly. She could feel his love pour into her through his gaze. It was overwhelming and soothing all at the same time. She gasped unsteadily. This was it. This was what made it all worth it. He slowly rose to his feet, pulling her with him.

He held her small hands in his own, drawing them near his chest. He beheld her dazed eyes as if drawing strength from her to keep himself from falling to his knees. He was so completely enthralled by her just as much as she was of him. The kiss had broken down their barriers. Their emotions surged out of them like water from a broken dam. She shuddered at the intensity.

"You're chilled," he pointed out. She nodded, though fully aware that it was not the cool air making her tremble. She didn't want to break the trance. He bent down to retrieve the blanket. He looked at it with a smile before peering into her eyes. "Come," he said gently. He quietly took her hand and led her into their home, their gazes never straying far from each other for a moment.

The door creaked shut behind them. The crickets carried on chirping and the world continued on as if nothing had happened. Yet, the stars silently observed from afar the budding, reinvented, bond between God's Witnesses. They gleamed with hope.

* * *

 ** _So what did you think? I was just getting so impatient for an Ichabbie kiss and I'm the damn author! So hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I did._**

 ** _I also wanted to take a moment and thank each and every one of you for reading, following, favoriting, and/or reviewing this story. Your support means the world to me. I seriously wish I could just hug and kiss the heck out of each one of you. You are all amazing! :)_**

 ** _As always, I look forward to reading what you have to say. I'm thinking about wrapping this story up soon. I know there are lots of loose ends to tie up so hopefully I'll remember to tie up everything that needs to be tied up (sorry, if that sounded kind of kinky). Anyway, let me know if there's anything you'd still like to see or be addressed before the ending._**

 ** _Your dedicated unintentionally kinky writer,_**

 ** _semul_**


	16. Chapter 16

_*Note: The Betsy Ross storyline does not exist in this story. It made no sense on the show and would make even less sense in this story. God, I love writing fanfic. I get to rewrite history. :)_

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Abbie awoke covered in sweat, her fingers tightly gripping the pillow beneath her head. Her heart beat rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight filtering into her room. Another nightmare. It was the first she'd had in months. She closed her eyes at the realization, taking in measured breaths.

For the past six months, she'd spent most of her time trying to regain a sense of normalcy while dealing with her trauma. Memories of the time she'd spent tortured and isolated would come in the forms of flashbacks and nightmares. It made it difficult for her to let her guard down, even around Crane. Add on to it the fact that evil never took a break, Abbie had a lot on her plate. Yet, her personal issues had been cast aside to make room for a more important priority: take out Pandora and the Hidden One.

Since her return from the catacombs, they'd managed to successfully fight against the never-ending line of monsters existing in Sleepy Hollow. They teamed up with Joe, Jenny, their father, Danny, and Sophie to make the task more manageable. But it wasn't until Pandora joined the team that they'd come across an actual plan to defeat the Hidden One once and for all. The only problem was that they had to regenerate Pandora's Box.

The box had to be regenerated within the catacombs. So Crane and Abbie journeyed back to her own personal hell and returned with box intact. The only problem was that it had run out of juice. Apparently, the power had to come from a Witness' soul. That small piece of vital information didn't come to their attention until Pandora attempted to betray them. Of course, they'd expected her eventual betrayal but what they hadn't anticipated was what would happen if the power didn't come from a Witness.

When Pandora attempted to lure Abbie into sacrificing herself, the ring that had once helped her in her time of need prevented it from happening. It reappeared when the box opened, creating an invisible shield around her and Crane. It kept them a safe distance away while the box consumed the souls of all who'd utilized it. Pandora, the Hidden One, and all the evil monsters it had released were returned to it. It seemed that the box of horrors had quickly turned on its handlers the moment it required supernatural power to fully regenerate itself.

Once it had consumed its creations, the box became dormant. Fearful that it would awaken once again, they immediately hid it away hoping one day it could be used as weapon in their remaining tribulations. Aside from a near Witness sacrifice, everybody else had come away from the battle all in one piece and practically unscathed.

Almost everybody.

Daniel Reynolds walked away with the most damage, mainly to his ego. Even though he'd reinstated her as an agent when she decided to return to work, Abbie still had other loose ends with him to tie up. However, in an effort to keep everybody's mind focused, she and Crane decided to wait until after defeating Pandora and the Hidden One to break the news of their relationship to everybody. Abbie had been the one to explain to Danny how she'd chosen Crane. He took it hard but eventually came to terms with it, especially since Crane began working with her in an official capacity as the bureau's history consultant. Though, lucky for Danny, it appeared that Sophie had taken it upon herself to be his shoulder to cry on. Abbie could sense something budding between the two agents and she couldn't be happier for them.

As for her and Jenny's father, they were still in the process of healing. It had been a major revelation to them when he'd informed them of his knowledge and involvement with the supernatural. It brought up old resentments and questions about their mother. Their father answered what he could and apologized for what he couldn't. Jenny and Abbie were slowly coming to terms with the fact that he existed and was willing to work his way back into their lives. In the end, it was nice to have another person on Team Witness they could rely on for a change.

To put it simply, Abbie was dealing with a mountain of issues. She'd done her best to move forward and cope with it all. Yet, after nearly half a year of therapy with a private counselor and hundreds of hours of 'rehabilitation' with Crane, she still had moments in which her mind would lull her into a sense of false security only to betray her at her most vulnerable. Flashbacks and nightmares would occur and at the most inconvenient of times. It made it even more difficult for her to be open and willing to share her burdens, an inconvenience when it came to her 'budding' romantic relationship with Crane.

It had been slow-going in that department. They'd kept their intimacy somewhat tame. He would spoil her with romantic gestures and she would fluster him with her flirtatious behavior. There were lots of flowers, quiet walks, well-thought out dates, and plenty of hugs. But when it came to kissing, Abbie was guilty of heating things up beyond what she could handle.

It would start off innocently enough with pecks on the cheek and gentle kisses on the lips then quickly escalate into some of the hottest make out sessions she'd ever experienced. Crane's thirst for learning and eidetic memory made it almost impossible for her to tear herself away from his arms but then inconvenient memories would often douse any intentions of taking their intimacy further.

Crane, the ever-gentleman, reacted more than generously and understandingly than she'd ever thought a man was capable. He would give her space when she wanted it and held her tightly when she needed it. He was her rock and her motivator, her partner and her best friend. He had quickly found his way into her damaged heart and helped mend all the hurt that had lived within it for years. She'd never felt so loved and in love. It was only a matter of time before they'd be able to express that physically.

Though, as her head pounded and sweat poured from her skin, the thought of doing anything physically strenuous made her sick to her stomach. She sighed reluctantly. After that nightmare, it appeared that the memory of her trauma had made its return to the forefront of her mind. It annoyed her more than anything. Why couldn't she just stop thinking about it and move on? She sighed again swinging her legs over the edge of her bed. If it had made its return, it would just have to wait until she was in a better frame of mind to deal with it. She gingerly rose and padded her way to the bathroom, ready to wash away the evidence of a restless sleep.

After her shower, she felt better. Doing her hair and makeup improved her mood further but the annoying throbbing in her head would not go away. Maybe if she ate something, drank some water, it would eventually disappear.

She made her way downstairs to the kitchen. No sign of Crane. He'd probably gone grocery shopping or was picking up something to eat at his new favorite restaurant. She couldn't remember which one it was today as he had a new favorite every other week. It was a strange habit of his but adorable nonetheless. She loved it when he'd recite some sort of ode to a new restaurant or new food. He could make greasy cheeseburgers sound like a fine delicacy.

She tenderly shook her head and pain shot through the front of her head. She hissed and pushed the heel of her hand against her forehead. Though she usually waited for him to bring home their meals, she knew if she didn't get any sustenance soon, her headache would never go away. So she downed a glass of water and made herself a small bowl of oatmeal with a side of fruit.

She took her breakfast into the dining room and sat at the table. It was uncharacteristically quiet. Usually, Crane would be bustling around the house or singing at the top of his lungs. Even in their downtime, he was a whirlwind of movement and sound. It was the complete opposite of her. She loved lounging around and basking in the quiet moments. How he'd managed to sweep her up in his world of excitement and passion was beyond her. A smile crept on her face. Well, it wasn't too difficult to imagine how she'd lost herself in his passion. Memories of the last chess game they'd played at their table came to mind. Heat radiated up her neck as she recalled her and Crane's unexpectedly fiery night.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Checkmate."

Abbie smirked at Crane's baffled face. She could tell he'd been so sure about his last move by the way he had proudly sat up straighter in his seat. He'd looked so cute in his nightshirt and robe looking all smug and certain. She almost hated bringing him down from his high but she had to play fair.

When the smile from his face fell, a flash of guilt had come over her but it quickly passed when he began protesting. He could get so childish sometimes. It made her wonder how two centuries wasn't enough for a man to grow up. She crossed her arms and looked at him unimpressed.

"That wasn't…but your queen, my knight…that was an entirely underhanded move," he argued.

She rolled her eyes and took out her phone from the pocket of her pajamas to check through her messages, hoping his tantrum would pass quickly this time. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered.

Instead of ending it with a huff in typical Crane manner, he continued protesting. She silently widened her eyes in annoyance. He was not going to let this go. She put her phone down and listened to his griping until she couldn't take any more. She flicked the roof of her mouth with her tongue and leaned over the table, her face inches away from his.

She lowered her voice, "Crane, just accept the fact that you'll never be able to beat me at chess."

His whining immediately stopped. His eyes darted to her lips. Before she knew it, he captured her lips and kissed her fervently. She could only manage to whimper as he practically devoured her. He moaned eagerly as he expertly sucked on her full lips. His obvious enthusiasm unleashed something within her. Kissing him felt like downing a cool, tall glass of water after trekking through a dry desert her entire life. The only problem was that it wasn't enough to simply take a sip. She wanted to dive in, head first, until her entire body felt quenched.

She broke the kiss and pushed him back into his seat with an aggression that surprised the both of them. The shock quickly wore off when she knocked the chess board away from the edge of the table and crawled into his lap. She gripped his shoulders and straddled his hips, seating herself in his lap. She stared at him as she rocked herself against him. His legs parted and his nightshirt rode up thighs. His breath escaped in a lustful sigh, his eyelids slightly fluttering. It was unbelievable how turned on she would become from his reactions. Desire coursed throughout her body pooling between her legs.

She rolled her hips a few more times before he gripped them tightly with his large hands. His eyes were closed as he shakily exhaled. She wet her lips nervously thinking she might have crossed a line with him. Of course he would put an end to it, she'd overwhelmed him. He pleasantly surprised her when his hands slid over her ass. He gripped it and lifted her off his lap, tugging her closer to his body. She balanced her hands on his broad chest as she felt herself slowly slide down his hard stomach providing her with a delicious stroke of friction. She gasped. He situated where he wanted her and opened his eyes. He gazed into her soul as he slowly yet firmly thrust against her. Her eyelids fluttered closed as a breath escaped her lips. Her body vibrated with desire.

Feeling his rigid arousal pushing against her through the material of his nightshirt and her thin pajama shorts sent delicious shocks of pleasure throughout her body. She gripped at the fabric of his shirt and leaned forward, moaning his name into his slightly parted mouth. His hands ghosted under her tank top as he roughly pulled her in for another kiss. She lost herself in his lips and the sensual movement of their rolling hips. Her hands travelled up and caressed his bearded cheeks then through his supple hair, her breath coming in intermittent ragged gasps against his lips. It wasn't until his fingertips caressed her skin under the clasp of her bra that she realized what she was doing.

She abruptly broke off the kiss and leaned her forehead against his. She squeezed her eyes shut as her body tensed, awaiting the flashbacks or hyperventilating to start. He pulled his hands from underneath her shirt and rested them against her back in support.

"Lieutenant, it's alright. You're alright," he whispered reassuringly, rubbing gentle circles against her back.

When nothing came, she exhaled, embarrassed by her untimely apprehension. This time around it wasn't her trauma that sabotaged her, it was her.

"Shit, I'm sorry," she mumbled, mortified by her hesitation.

"Abbie," he murmured, gently cupping her face with his hands. She squeezed her eyelids shut tighter. "Abbie, please," he urged quietly.

She let out a controlled breath and set her jaw determinedly before opening her eyes. She studied his messily tousled hair, his flushed skin, and his swollen lips but it was his eyes that killed her. They were fully dilated but filled with an infinite amount of warmth and concern.

It was unmistakable, he loved her. As big of a mess as she was, as unstable as her mind currently was, as much as she rejected him, he loved her. He loved her so utterly and completely. He'd never leave her again. She knew it. What's more is that she believed it.

After continually disappointing him, she could only hope that he could see how much she loved him in return. She loved him more than she'd ever thought possible. Her heart and soul were so full of intense emotions for him. Love, acceptance, hope, devotion, passion, it was all too much to control. She sharply inhaled, her eyes pricking with hot tears.

"Fuck," she whispered as she looked up, trying to contain her tears but quickly lost the battle when they started to stream down her cheeks. Crane quickly wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his shoulder as her body shook with sobs.

She didn't know exactly why she was crying but she knew it had to do with him. There was so much she held back, it was taking a toll on her. He was everything to her. Her heart and mind told her he'd more than earned her love but her body was taking too long to catch up. It hurt her to see him get rejected by her over and over again. She knew it wasn't something she should feel guilty about but it hurt nonethless. She wanted to show him just how much he meant to her, she wanted to consumate their relationship in every way possible but she was getting in the way of that. It wasn't fair.

Once her sobs turned into soft hiccups, he hugged her tightly and stood up from the chair. She gripped his body tightly, refusing to let go of him. Feeling his body against her was the only thing keeping her together. He kept her close as he made his way up the stairs to her room. When they reached her bed, he threw the throw pillows to the floor and pulled the comforter the side. He kneeled next to the mattress and sat her on the edge of it.

"Treasure, lie down," he coaxed gently, carefully trying to pry her grip from his body.

She clutched him harder, irrational panic suddenly overtaking her. "No," she mumbled against his shirt, unable to bear the thought of sleeping by herself. "Don't go."

"I shall not leave your side. You have my word," he reassured her. "Now, please, lie down."

She uncertainly released him and slowly crawled into her bed. He quickly followed her and pulled the covers over them. She immediately pulled him into her arms and rested her damp cheek against his chest. His steady heartbeat thumped quietly against her ear. She felt calmer yet it did nothing to assuage her earlier guilt.

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly, as she rubbed the lapels of his robe between her fingers.

Crane caressed her arm. "No, there is no need to apologize," he said, gently laying a kiss atop her head.

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

"You've suffered, Lieutenant, more than anyone could endure. There is nothing wrong with you. 'Tis simply another obstacle you shall overcome."

She stayed quiet, considering his words. How he managed to remain cool headed about this entire situation was beyond her. She often forgot he was more resilient than what she gave him credit for. Nevertheless, she needed to reassure him after her blatant rejection. She swallowed nervously.

"I want to. I really do," she said quietly.

He smiled faintly. "I know."

She flipped over and rested her chin on her hand, looking at him curiously. "Do you?"

He glanced down at her playfully before returning his gaze to the ceiling. "Why do you think I've kept my robe on?"

Closing her eyes in mortification, a smile pulling at the sides of her mouth. She buried her face in his chest and mumbled, "Oh my god."

"I could not in good conscience impart the temptation of glimpsing me in my incredibly alluring nighttime attire. You would not be able to resist."

She snorted against his chest. "Stop."

"Though, I wonder if being a Witness comes with superhuman strength."

She furrowed her brow and glanced up at him questioningly.

"Oh, well, no mere mortal could possibly walk around, let alone up a flight of stairs, whilst in my…discernibly aroused condition." He raised his eyebrow and looked down at her roguishly.

Her face melted into a smile as she began giggling. "Oh god, no more details, please."

He chuckled along with her, holding her tightly by his side. He rest his lips on the top of her head while their laughter died down.

She soberly apologized again, "I really am sorry, Crane."

He sighed. "Abigail, do not apologize. Our moment shall arrive when it arrives. Until then, I am entirely content with affections you allow me."

"Are you sure?" She rest her cheek against his chest again.

"Treasure, I am unworthy of your mere caress. To bask in your affections is a privilege I don't deserve."

She quickly tilted her head and looked up at him. "Don't, Crane. Don't talk like that. You are worthy. You do deserve it. You deserve that and more," she said adamantly, wishing he'd believe her.

"Do I?"

Her heart clenched painfully. Hearing the doubt he felt about his worthiness hurt her. She wouldn't allow him to see himself other than the way she saw him.

Careful to avoid his nether regions, she straddled his body and placed her hands firmly on either side of his face. She steadily held his gaze. "Ichabod, I love you. And you are completely worthy and deserving of it. I…," she paused as she studied his unexpectedly bright expression as if he'd suddenly deciphered the world's most complicated puzzle. "What?"

He smiled widely, as his fingers slipped over hers. "No, I…it's just…it's the first time I've heard you utter those words."

She smiled in realization.

He studied her eyes. "You cannot imagine how I've longed for this moment."

"Oh," she said, slowly recognizing the significance of this momentous occasion. It was true. She never said those words unless she truly meant them, which didn't occur often. She looked into his joyful blue gaze and nodded as if to reinforce what she'd just said. "Well, I do."

He coyly smiled. "Pardon?"

She knit her brow in confusion. She thought she'd been clear. "I…," she began, until she realized he was teasing her. "You're messing with me."

He wriggled down the mattress and buried his face in her neck almost bashfully. She giggled as his nose tickled her neck, his whiskers prickling her cheek and shoulder.

She half-heartedly batted him away, her heart beating merrily. "Okay, alright, fine. I love you."

He paused, pulling up momentarily. "Hmm? I've the misfortune of a pair of two-hundred-year-old ears, I didn't catch that last bit." He continued his ticklish nuzzling, filling her with glee.

She smacked his chest playfully. "Stop, stop! I love you, damn it. Stop!" she squealed in between fits of laughter. He pulled away, a giant smile etched into his face.

She rolled off of him and on to her side, facing him breathlessly. "I love you, Ichabod Crane."

He sweetly kissed her. "And I love you, Grace Abigail Mills."

She smiled and leaned her forehead against his feeling as if the world was finally right, a lifetime of pain permanently fading away into the background. Lulled by his steady breaths, she fell asleep with her heart full and soul complete.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Abbie bit her lip as she twirled her spoon, smiling dreamily at the memory. It was definitely one of her most treasured memories, in addition to it being one of their more memorable chess matches.

Crane was something else. The feelings she had for him were nothing like what she'd experienced with past boyfriends. There was this sense of understanding and acceptance she'd never felt before. It was like a heightened sense of trust with an underlying current of electric tension, a sexy combination. She wouldn't be surprised if every time they touched, they gave off sparks. The bond they shared was so strong she knew it was only a matter of time before their urges would overcome her trauma.

Then again, she may have spoken too soon.

A flash of a not so hot memory came to the forefront of her mind: his lips on someone else's at this very table. Her smile fell. Miss Corinth.

She furrowed her brow in confusion. _The hell was that?_ Why did _that_ suddenly come to mind? Abbie couldn't possibly still be mad about that, could she?

Her stomach fluttered with a violent sensation of anger and jealousy. It appeared that she was still holding feelings she'd thought she had successfully suppressed. How could she be jealous of a woman Crane no longer cared about? It made no logical sense. And yet, she couldn't shake the image that had seared itself into her memory. Did he think about her? Was he thinking about her when he kissed her in the same place he did his ex-tutor? What if he really did still have feelings for her?

Her mind was going into overdrive thinking of all the possibilities. It was as if it was on a mission to sabotage all the progress she had achieved in her personal life. _What the hell was going on?_ she thought, desperately hoping she wasn't reverting back mentally.

The sound of keys jingling outside the front door snapped her back to reality before she tumbled down that never-ending spiral. Nonetheless, enough time had passed for her to feel a rage simmer within her. Crane was hers. She was his. She just needed to make sure they were on the same page, logic be damned.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

 ** _Welp. Hi again. I should begin by apologizing for taking a long hiatus from this story. I'm sorry for the wait. Life happened and this got pushed to the bottom of my priority list._**

 ** _I had planned to write an extra super long final chapter but decided instead to cut it up into several chapters. It's easier to find motivation to keep writing that way._**

 ** _Would you believe that my motivation to write anything Sleepy Hollow related completely disappeared? Because it did. But then I reread some of your inspiring messages and comments. You gave me motivation to want to finish this story. And I will._**

 ** _It may take some time but I will push through my disappointment, my anger, and my resentment of the show to complete this story. Ichabbie deserves a better ending and I will do my best to give you that._**

 ** _Thanks to those of you still reading and a special thanks to those people who sent me messages these past few months. Your lovely words of praise and encouragement lifted my spirits and inspired me. Thank you with all of my heart!_**

 ** _Your full of excuses author,_**

 ** _semul_**


	17. Chapter 17

Whistling a lively ditty, Ichabod strolled into the house with a bag of freshly baked croissants from the local bakery in one hand and a single, red rose carefully plucked from his flourishing rose garden in the other. His chest was full of emotion. He'd awoken that day with a smile upon his lips and his heart brimming with joy, as he had every morn upon Abbie's return.

She'd filled his life with her beauty and splendor all these years and, now, she was his and he was hers. Their destinies were fully entwined. He knew her heart and she knew his. There were no lies. No betrayals. No more fences. They'd bared their very souls to one another. What once was shrouded in mystery was now theirs to explore and their bond was ever stronger for it.

With her, he'd realized that love truly was a gift, a rare honor bestowed upon him. It had required two centuries for this understanding to find him but it had hit its mark with such precision, it would be a mortal sin to waste such a providential opportunity.

Life was unpredictable, even more so for a Witness. Each day was a blessing and to spend it alongside the person he'd come to trust and admire most was a greater gift than what he could have ever hoped to deserve. He finally understood what real love was supposed to feel like and with whom he was meant to share it.

Though she continued to face the demons that had wounded her soul, they'd found strength in each other to overcome the worst of it. It was as if their love was a well of power they drew strength from to conquer challenges along their path. It was fierce. It was strong. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Of course, he'd been in love and married in the past but it paled in comparison to what he'd realized by Abbie's side.

Upon courting her, or as she would say "going out", – an expression that made no sense given that they'd gone several places together all these years – his sense of purpose was clearer than ever. In return, their courtship was the crucial connection she needed to finally reveal her soul to him. She allowed him to share in her burdens and he received her candor as he would any privilege; with great caution and care. He provided any means of support she desired. Though, at times, it appeared that Abbie coped with her personal tribulations better when she sought out a physical release: a simultaneous blessing and curse.

It oft commenced rather innocently enough. A caress here, a brush of her lips there, a throaty sigh, then it wasn't long before his fingers were buried in her delectable arse – referring to it as a double jug was simply blasphemous – and her fingers were pulling at his hair sending delicious tingling throughout his body. In those feverish moments, he could not have his fill of her addictive taste. Her soft lips, her breath, her sinfully skillful tongue, a truly dizzying taste inspiring him lose all mental faculty. 'Twas as if he'd been given but a small taste of a heavenly nectar and his entire being thirsted for more.

It could indeed be said that Abbie was gifted in the art of caresses. It was under her tutelage that he finally understood what 'macking on a lady' truly meant and, dear God, was it ever so extraordinary. Regret twisted his insides at the thought of the wasted years he'd restrained himself from reveling in her caresses. Had he any sense, he would have lost himself in wild abandon the instant she'd offered him a taste of her lips. Every time they kissed, it was all he could do to stop himself from falling upon his knees and beseech her to never share her taste with any other man. As the song recommended, he was more than willing to 'put a ring on it'.

However, in accordance to modern societal expectations, marriage was not a necessary prerequisite to physical intimacy. Abbie was a firm believer in this ideal. Nevertheless, his mind could only compensate his sinful thoughts of her with an intention of marriage. Though, his actions were beginning to exhibit a great disregard for even this simple show of propriety. It was becoming nearly impossible to subdue his urges to physically demonstrate his adoration for her as was evidenced during their last chess match.

That night, an insatiable yearning had possessed him. An urgent need to feel her lips upon his and her warmth against his body had overtaken his senses. Though that aborted mission had resulted in a very painful – lonely – journey back to his room, it had awakened a passion inside of him he'd never known.

He was no stranger to physical urges but this sensation was shaded with a need he hadn't endured since the beginning of his adolescence. It was fervent, heated, and near impossible to restrain. He desired her desperately, any way he could. This was evident by the mortifying number of times he needed to achieve an aching, unsatisfying release throughout the day.

Nonetheless, he understood and respected her need for patience and comprehension. She'd suffered a trauma no one could possibly fathom. And so his heart had only grown with love. The lust he felt was merely a resulting condition of his true feelings. Through her affections and sincerity, she had swiftly found her way deeper within his soul, a feat he'd never thought possible.

Yet, upon entering the dining room that morning, he promptly realized she was presently not in the same mindset as he.

Abbie was upset. She barely acknowledged his presence whilst she glared at the empty bowl in front of her. Unsure as to what had provoked her mood, he hastily hid the small gifts behind his back.

As he studied her infuriated form sitting at the table with her tight jeans and low cut shirt, an unexpected desperation slithered its way throughout his body. He mentally reprimanded himself for his improper reactions. _Ichabod, calm yourself._ His inappropriate thoughts were unbecoming of a gentleman. He needed to attain a sense of restraint, decorum. This was not a time to release any repressed desires.

Suppressing an onslaught of untimely thoughts and sensations, he cleared his throat and walked toward her slowly. "Abbie?" He knit his brow when she refused to look at him. "Are you alright?"

She sucked in her cheeks, continuing to refuse him eye contact, and raised an eyebrow. "Fine."

Doubtful of her assertion, he cautiously asked, "Are you…sure?" He slowly approached the table.

She gave him an unimpressed look, relaying her irritation.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, gently setting down the paper bag and crimson flower on the table. She glanced at the items quietly, a flash of remorse in her eyes before she inhaled deeply, continuing in her silent rage. She was withholding something from him, again. He resigned himself to the tense situation and pulled out the chair beside her, flipping his coattail as he sat.

By now, he'd become accustomed to awaiting her acquiescence in sharing her insecurities. It would require a few moments of denial, perhaps a few more moments of deflection, before she would eventually share with him. It was her way and he respected it so as long as she would share and not maintain her frustration hidden or suppressed for too long.

Resting his folded hands on the table, he gave her a patient look. He would wait as long as it took to convince her to share in her burden.

She glanced at him and rolled her eyes. She knew exactly what he was doing. She could deny and deflect as much as she wanted but she'd eventually reveal it to him. She narrowed her eyes in annoyance and turned slightly to give him a questioning look, wordlessly inquiring as to what he was attempting to do.

He shrugged his shoulder indifferently. "I have no pressing engagements, Lieutenant. Though, I must admit, I had hoped by this point in our relationship, you would not hesitate to share in your frustrations with me. Please, believe me when I say, I am here to bear in your burden, Abbie."

She looked up at the ceiling, maintaining her silent fury. He continued waiting patiently. After a few moments of tense silence, she finally broke.

"I'm mad."

He blinked at her until she reluctantly expressed the level of anger she was withholding.

"Alright, I'm pissed."

Ichabod nodded slowly. He could perceive the frustration directed at him. He strived to see her happy. She had lived enough of her life in fear and anger, he never intended to inspire more distrust in her life. Yet, it appeared that his intentions were all for naught.

He swallowed nervously, hoping his fears would fail to transpire. "And might I inquire as to why you are feeling...peeved?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes toward him. He blinked at her in concern but she looked away before he could detect anything in her eyes. Fortunately, he needn't catch her gaze to understand that she felt uncomfortable. It was as if she herself was struggling to make sense of the emotions warring within her.

"It just doesn't make sense," she finally said quietly.

"What doesn't make sense?"

She shook her head and blinked in exasperation. "This. Me. Us. It's been months and I'm still…"

"Upset?"

She widened her eyes in affirmation.

Ichabod panicked. He racked his brain shifting through every moment he'd spent with her in the past six months trying to find a single moment that could have possibly upset her. There were several possible instances he could think of but he wasn't prepared to go through an entire list just to remind her of said moments. His heart hammered against his chest hoping it wasn't something too offending.

He cleared his throat and carefully continued. "Forgive me, Lieutenant, but I'm not entirely certain as to what is responsible for provoking your ire."

She stoically stared at him as if doubtful of his understanding. After a moment, she leaned forward, resting her folded hands on the table. He straightened his back uneasily.

She studied his eyes as if searching for a sign of something as one word passed through her lips. "Zoe."

His mind went blank. "Zoe?" he repeated quizzically.

His mind drew blanks. The nonsensical word bounced around in his head as he struggled to find any meaning to it. The fear clenching at his heart and guilt in his stomach made it impossible to make any connection to the name she'd uttered with a trace of hurt in her voice. His mind could only process the fact that a single name was capable of evoking pain in her.

She stared at him expectantly. His eyes shifted as he furiously worked past his panic to find familiarity to the cursed name she'd uttered.

After a bout of silence, she huffed, annoyed at his sudden memory loss.

"Miss Corinth, your...'tutor'," she emphasized, widening her eyes and looking away as if reluctant to use that particular word to describe her.

He closed his eyes in recognition. Miss Corinth. He hadn't thought of her in months, not since the incident with the Kindred.

He put an end to her advances that very day, something he'd overlooked the moment he and Abbie began their relationship. He'd lost himself in such a state of euphoria, he'd completely overlooked bringing closure to that brief acquaintance.

The young historian meant no more to him than a potentially beneficial acquaintance. Of course, she was an enchanting young woman but – to use an accurate term modern romance films used to describe a lack of attraction between two characters – the charming Zoe Corinth was not 'his type'. His interest in her lied solely within the realm of self-interest: he solely wanted to use her connections to aid him in attaining his citizenship.

Now that he managed to obtain his citizenship by his own merit, he realized he had acted cruelly and selfishly in allowing Miss Corinth to entertain the possibility of something more than a friendship with him. It was not something he deemed boast worthy, therefore, he had intentionally put it out of his mind. Thus, explaining his brief moment of forgetfulness.

Yet, he continued in his uncertainty as to why Abbie held a grievance in regard to that unfortunate liaison. She had appeared encouraging of their brief relationship. _Unless..._ he thought cautiously, perhaps she had been more affected by their short-lived relationship than what she'd admitted to him. Considering her ability to withhold her emotions, it was a very real possibility.

He silently nodded as he proceeded with caution, careful to not reveal his uncertainty, "Of course, Miss Corinth, Zoe."

He folded his hands on the table, awaiting her explanation, not wanting to immerse himself in his assumptions yet unwilling to reveal his ignorance.

"Really?" She looked at him in disbelief after a moment of silence.

Abbie had seen right through his façade. He nervously shifted in his seat, resting his now fidgety hands in his lap. He licked his lips and glanced at her uneasily. He could perceive by Abbie's incredulous tone that he'd forgotten something worthy of note. He continued carefully.

"As I've assured you in the past, there is nothing between Miss Corinth and myself. We are both members of the same historical society. It is unavoidable that I may see her occasionally but it is solely on cordial terms, nothing more."

He hoped his explanation was enough to remove any doubt from her mind. He swallowed back the knot forming in his throat and gazed at her with the most innocent expression he could muster.

She remained unconvinced. She nodded, pursing her lips.

"Nothing?" She tilted her head, preparing herself to reveal the reason behind her sudden displeasure. "I'm not sure how there could be nothing after catching the two of you making out on my dining room table. Or did that slip your big, eidetic mind?"

His face dropped. _Yes, that had happened, hadn't it?_ And she had borne witness to that moment of weakness. It was shameful to imagine what Abbie must have felt at witnessing it.

In his mind, it was insignificant in the grand scheme of things considering that he'd failed to remember it. The kiss had been mediocre, at best. He'd learned nothing from it and had quickly overlooked its significance. He held no residual feelings toward Miss Corinth and she had assured him that there were none on her part. What could have been never was and never shall be.

He was uncertain as to why the memory of this unfortunate event had surfaced. It had occurred long ago and he'd assumed that Abbie had forgiven him given the conversation they'd had immediately following the incident. _Apparently not,_ he thought anxiously. He inhaled sharply and carefully treaded forward.

"No, I…I did not forget that unfortunate moment. It was a most reprehensible display of indecorous behavior on my part and I should have never indulged her flirtatious advances. It was a regrettable mistake and it was never my intention to make you feel uncomfortable in your own home."

He searched her eyes hoping she would accept his admission of guilt. She looked away. It appeared his actions were not going to be so easily excused.

"That doesn't change the fact that it happened, Ichabod," she said quietly, glancing up at him.

He could see the hurt in her big, brown eyes. He felt a bitter blow to his heart. Though that insignificant kiss meant nothing to him, it had meant something to her, enough to cause her anguish. In turn, it caused him to feel anguish as well.

He gazed at her, desperately wanting her to feel his remorse. He reached a hand toward her, a futile attempt to comfort her. "Abbie, I…"

She blinked at his extended hand and quickly became uncomfortable with the confrontation. She stood abruptly, gathering her bowl and glass, and made her way to the kitchen without another word.

Ichabod sighed, retracting his hand, his heart throbbing in pain. He woefully stared at the forgotten bag of pastries and slowly wilting rose. He closed his eyes in shame, wanting the earth to open up and swallow him whole. He'd allowed himself to live in a moment of obliviousness, presuming perfection. He'd claimed their relationship was based on honesty, that they had discovered a flawless love in each other.

He had but she hadn't.

He hurt her. Though, the kiss had occurred before the start of their relationship, it had caused her pain. He should have perceived it in her eyes the moment it had occurred. If he had been more perceptive, he would have seen the strain it had placed on their bond before she had gone missing. He should have sensed it in how she pulled away from him the days following the incident, in how she'd been quick to sacrifice herself to save them all.

Abbie, the one who would always remind him that there was always another way, had decided there was no other way but to suffer through months of torture to save them. She'd felt betrayed. He had blindsided her with that tactless kiss. After rejecting her all those months ago, how could she not have been? How could she have found another way when his thoughtless actions had plagued her? He was such a thoughtless cad. If he had shown more remorse, if he had stopped to notice her pain, if he hadn't kissed Miss Corinth, perhaps Abbie wouldn't have had to suffer all those months.

Slowly, he arose from his seat and followed her to the kitchen where she quietly washed her dishes. His fingers restlessly twitched at his side as the guilt flowed throughout his body. Emotion threatening to escape, he swallowed thickly. He didn't deserve the luxury of tears. His feelings weren't the ones hurt.

He inhaled shakily as he pleaded with her. "Abbie, it was a moment of weakness. I cannot explain the logic behind my actions simply because there was none."

She remained silent as she mechanically rinsed her dishes.

"Please, Abbie. Forgive me, I-I did not realize the impact of my thoughtless conduct."

She shut off the water and reached for the drying towel. She dried and put away the dishes as he gazed at her in agony. If her silence was any indication, she was not going to forgive him.

He closed his stinging eyes reluctantly, his heart slowly shattering into pieces. He'd found a priceless treasure and had fumbled in his attempt to keep it for himself. She deserved more than what he'd presented to her. She deserved more than a man who only managed to hurt her with his graceless actions. He inhaled shakily. "I understand if you no longer desire a relationship with a dishonest, inept fool such as I–"

"Stop."

He looked at her with a flicker of hope. She put the towel down and turned to him. She leaned against the counter, folding her arms, and looked at him unimpressed with his declarations. "You don't get to end this relationship or make me feel guilty."

"I'm not–"

"Yes, you are. I get to be the angry one here. I get to be irrational. Not you."

He blinked at her and nodded uncertainly, feeling a bit relieved but fearful of what well-deserved wrath she would release upon him. He silently waited her rightful judgement.

"Crane, I know we weren't together at the time. I get that. And I get that I was the one that pushed you toward her. It's just that, for some reason I'm still trying to figure out, I'm pissed off at you. I'm trying to be rational here but the only thing I see is you shoving your tongue down her throat at the same table I eat. At the same table where you and I…," she looked at him knowingly, deciding any further explanation unnecessary.

He inhaled slowly, nodding in understanding. Abbie did not seek retribution nor explanation. She simply felt territorial.

Unsure of how to proceed with this knowledge, his mouth bobbed open as he tried to form intelligible words. She felt possessive of him. He'd never known Abbie to express anything resembling envy or jealousy or possessiveness in the few years he'd known her. This was a revelation.

Unthinkingly, he reassured her, "I can assure you there were no tongues or throat _…shoving_."

She scoffed in amazement. "Really, Crane? You really want to get into details right now?"

"No, I...no," he immediately regretful of his inane comment.

She sighed grudgingly. "I'm pissed off, Crane. I'm just not sure if it's at you or me. I've never felt…whatever this is before."

He nodded silently.

"Maybe…maybe it's just a delayed reaction to what happened. It just…it must've affected me more than I thought." She shrugged, leaning her palms against the edge of the kitchen counter.

"''Tis possible," he replied carefully, narrowing his eyes cautiously.

Abbie folded her arms again and huffed, "I don't live in envy. I accept things for what they are. I don't go around wishing for what other people have. So all this doesn't make sense. But it's something I can't help."

Seeing her struggle to come to terms with an emotion he was only all too familiar with, threatened a smile along the edges of his mouth.

She looked at him curiously. "What's so funny?"

He inhaled deeply before giving raising his eyebrow. "It appears that we both suffer from the same irrational thoughts. I held a certain level of possessiveness upon my first encounter with Agent Reynolds," he admitted.

She tilted her head admonishingly. "Crane, Danny isn't a part of my personal life anymore."

He closed his eyes in acknowledgement of that delightful fact. "Of course." He then gazed up at her tenderly. "'Tis merely an observation that though we are people who hold fidelity and honesty in high esteem, our insecurities lie within the same realm of groundless conjecture."

She scoffed lightly and looked at him doubtfully. "I don't know about groundless…"

He immediately approached her and took her small hands in his. She reluctantly gripped them with a sigh, her body easing to a sense of subdued acceptance. She looked up at him as he gazed at her, desperate for her to believe in his words.

"Abbie, treasure, I would never hurt you. I would never be disloyal. Though you may feel that the kiss that occurred between myself and Miss Corinth signified something more than the foolish curiosity of an insecure man, I give you my word it was nothing more than that."

She sighed tiredly, her shoulders sagging as if ridding herself of a great weight upon her shoulders. "I don't know why I'm so fixated on this. It wasn't like we were together at the time."

They gazed at each other, a flash of regret passing over her features. She sighed again. "Maybe…maybe it was just the state of mind I was in at the time."

Though she had admitted to witnessing the kiss, it appeared that something else had occurred prior to that unfortunate event. Something she had failed to disclose to him.

Knitting his brow, he prodded, "And what state of mind was that, Lieutenant?"

She looked at him hesitantly before confessing. "Something happened that night, Crane. Something I haven't told you."

* * *

 ** _Hey there!_**

 ** _Sorry to leave you hanging! I had to cut this chapter in half, it was getting to be too big of a monster to handle!_**

 ** _I'm doing my best to wrap this up. I have two more chapters planned with an epilogue to follow. And for those of you that have patiently waited smut, the next two chapters will contain smut. I'm trying to make it tasteful but Abbie and Ichabod are making it near impossible right now. Totally my fault. I shouldn't have kept them apart this long! :)_**

 ** _So hopefully I can get that posted soon and get this story all wrapped up. I've enjoyed writing Ichabbie but I'm thinking this will be my last story for the Sleepy Hollow fandom (which probably explains why I'm subconsciously dragging this story out). I will do my best to give these two the ending they deserved._**

 ** _Thank you for all your patience and a big shout out to those of you still reading and reviewing. I can't tell you how appreciative I am for you guys taking the time to express your kind words. Thank you._**

 ** _Your chugging-along writer,_**

 ** _semul_**


	18. Chapter 18

"I didn't say what I'm about to tell you, Crane, 'cause I didn't think it'd be fair. After all that mess with Katrina, you'd finally found someone you could open up to and I couldn't get in the way of that."

Ichabod silently gazed at her, her uncertainty fueling his curiosity. What had she chosen to withhold from him? Why had she continued to keep it from him? His insides twisted with nerves. It could only be unpleasant if it warranted such resolute concealment on her part. He braced himself for the worst.

She quietly sighed. "That night, I-I'd made a decision."

She looked up at him cautiously. It wasn't easy for her to be so upfront about things like this but he deserved the truth. He needed to know why all this had come up after all these months and seemingly out of nowhere. She only hoped revealing her secret would not send him into shock.

She cleared her throat gruffly, hoping to downplay the significance, "I'd been thinking about it and decided it was the right time to… _try_ things out. Try...this," she gestured between the two of them.

She shifted uncomfortable under his gaze as he knit his brow slightly, giving her a questioning look. _She couldn't possibly mean…,_ his head tilted and lips parted in realization. Her apprehensive gaze confirmed what her words did not. So that was her secret. She had held affections for him long before the commencement of their courtship. His eyelashes fluttered taken aback by the news.

He recognized that an indescribable tension existed between them upon his return but he had assumed it was solely created on his part, a remnant of their near kiss. He believed he was alone in his sentiments. How could she possibly feel the same after he'd put her through? His comportment was deplorable. He had done nothing to earn her affections. Fortunately, his Lieutenant was a charitable woman.

He swallowed thickly, his guilt readily reemerging from the depths of his soul. How could he have not seen it? How had it managed to slip past him?

"I see," he managed to rasp out, struggling to contain his shame.

Her gaze shifted down to their entwined hands. She felt self-conscious. Though she'd just admitted to the truth she'd been trying to avoid, it wasn't everything. Yes, she'd chosen Crane but she could have easily chosen Daniel Reynolds.

It was difficult to admit that she'd even considered a life without her adorable string-bean of a partner, especially when he looked at her with those giant puppy eyes but it was the truth. She'd imagined the house, the career, the family, everything she'd dreamt about as a kid and none of it by his side. It was easy at the time. Danny had been there and he had not. It seemed like the smart choice.

She grudgingly continued, masking a grimace. "Danny...he-he'd made me an offer earlier that same day." She inhaled unsteadily. "Actually, he kind of took me by surprise."

Ichabod immediately recalled that particular strained encounter with Daniel Reynolds. His attempt to provoke him, her sudden distracted demeanor upon her return from his office, it all made sense. Of course, Reynolds had taken his opportunity to win her over for himself. He should have known. The underhanded gibes he'd directed at him should have been his first clue. Agent Reynolds' intentions were as noble as he had assumed. _The crafty, no-good, lowlife, scum bucket,_ he asserted silently with an indiscernible sneer.

What truly bothered him was the agent's improper advances within a professional setting. Aside from being entirely in bad form, it had caught her unaware. Abbie's place of work was her sanctuary. It was where she felt the most accomplished, the most secure. It angered him that Agent Reynolds had spoiled it with his unwelcome advances. Abbie was not taken by surprise often. The unpropitious encounter had unsettled her, of that he was certain.

He frowned. What had the underhanded Agent Reynolds deemed necessary to confront her about in such an inappropriate setting? What had he declared to her?

She moistened her lips, awkwardly resuming, sensing a building tension in the room. "He said he wanted to pick up where we left off and, to be honest, I thought about it a lot." She continued to eye him carefully, reluctant to provide more details. She didn't find any joy in being this honest with him.

Ichabod's chest constricted at the thought of losing her to him. He couldn't imagine life without her at his side and the near possibility clenched his heart with fear. Though he believed the agent to be an arrogant fiend, Abbie trusted him. She trusted him enough to share in a brief romance with him. After what he'd made her suffer during his absence, she had every reason to choose Agent Reynolds over him.

It pained him to admit it but Daniel Reynolds had been there for her when he had not. Only his cowardice was to blame, an unforgivable travesty. He nervously rubbed her hand with the pad of his thumb, a soothing gesture mainly for his benefit.

She scoffed lightly at herself as she continued retelling her encounter. "Everything I ever wanted, the life I envisioned, it was all right there. I could've said yes. I could've just set aside my fears and accepted what he was giving me but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I…I couldn't imagine any of it without you." She exhaled with a huff, biting her bottom lip. She was getting sappy but she couldn't help it.

When Danny had offered his heart to her, she couldn't picture their lives together without Crane. She needed him by her side but she knew that it would be the first thing Danny would want from her, to cut off Crane. To do so would mean to lose a piece of her. She couldn't do it. Crane was her man. Nothing and nobody would change that. She came to that realization so quickly, she didn't see the point in waiting any more. It was what spurred her to confront him with the truth that night.

Ichabod inhaled deeply, his heart beating to life once again at her spoken words. The fear that had clenched it released its tight grip giving way to triumphant fluttering. She had rejected Agent Reynolds' offer because of him. The feelings he had assumed were unrequited were quite the opposite. Although Abbie held her emotions close to her heart, she had followed them down a path that led to him. It filled him with relief. He had done nothing to deserve her regard at the time yet she'd bestowed it upon him anyway. He was the most fortunate man upon the face of the earth.

He bowed his head, taking a moment to honestly reflect on the matter. Though he was the obvious champion, the battle for her heart had its casualty.

He was reminded of Abraham. In that instance, Ichabod had been the one to reveal news of his best friend's own disbandment; a poor decision on his part considering it truly was not his place and Abraham had been armed. Their fated duel had certainly resulted in a most regrettable - apocalyptic - outcome. He was grateful things had not come to that between him and Daniel Reynolds. He sensed Reynolds would not have reacted quite so recklessly. There was a reason Abbie had chosen the shrewdly devoted, brawny agent and it wasn't because he was a capricious swordsman who came from a good colonial family.

Feeling obliged to acknowledge his rival's warranted allure, he reluctantly admitted, "I understand why you contemplated a future with him. Though I'm obviously not a supporter of Agent Reynolds, I know he would have given you a life you deserved."

She tiredly blinked, shrugging lightly. She looked away as if lost in thought.

He nodded curtly. He could sense her guilt emerge. Though she presented a hardened exterior, Abbie was a tenderhearted, compassionate woman. She would never intentionally hurt someone. Rejecting Daniel Reynolds was no easy matter for her. Nevertheless, he could not allow her to anguish over her former… _lover's_ emotional status. He indiscernibly rolled his eyes in irritation. It appeared that the green-eyed monster the Bard had alluded to had found its mark.

He closed his eyes and wrinkled his brow. This was no time to pay mind to his insecurities. She needed him. She had chosen him. He felt obliged in reassuring her that she had unerringly chosen the right man.

He licked his lips and peeked up at her with a smirk. She deserved happiness, joy, not more guilt. He needed to distract her. If anything, he could at least make an effort to bring a smile upon her face with his unique observations.

"Though, I am uncertain as to why you would envision this wretchedly archaic man by your side when worthier men would lay themselves at your feet, I must admit that I am honored." He gave a slight bow of his head, attempting to hide a smirk. "However, it does beg the question, what must it say about your preference in companions?" He arched his eyebrow questioningly.

A smile spread across her face. Leave it to Crane to turn this into a jibe at her expense. She schooled her features and gripped his lapels with a subtle shake. "You trying to say I have bad taste in men?" she inquired sternly.

He looked at her in mock outrage. "Me? Never."

She raised a challenging eyebrow, hiding her smirk behind pursed lips. "Yeah, well I don't know how I could resist you with those never-ending rants, that nasty ass two-hundred year old coat hiding in the back of your closet, and those damn prince charming bows."

He lowered his gaze blushingly, painfully aware of his antiquated imperfections that she kindly referred to as his 'quirks'. Only she possessed the patience and humor to see them as endearing. He laid his hands over hers, removing them from his lapels to entwine them once again in his.

He said rather coquettishly, "A two-hundred-year-old coat? Doesn't your generation fawn over those types of _antiques_?"

"Only if you plan on selling it."

"Never. It shall remain in the back of the closet alongside Mr. Snuggles, your priceless stuffed bear I wouldn't dream of asking you to part with, if I might add."

She half-heartedly rolled her eyes, gently rubbing his hands between her small fingers. He always found a way to make her smile. She loved that about him. _Love_ , she pondered. _That's exactly what it was_. She looked up at him soberly, ready to say what she had meant to say that night.

"Crane, you're my partner and best friend. You know for a fact I can't say that about a lot of people." She looked up at him studying him carefully, hoping he appreciated the significance of her admission. "I never expected this to happen but you're everything I didn't know I wanted, everything I needed. You're at the center of my life now. Not Danny, not anybody else."

She stared at him with an intense sincerity he could feel in his soul. She'd loved him as much as he did. He filled his chest with a shuddering breath. Everything she admitted to him were the words he had longed to hear. He felt his heart grow larger with an overwhelming sensation. It couldn't possibly be love. It was something more, something beyond the realm of ordinary. It felt divine and transcendental, mystical in its ability to grow infinitely.

Suddenly, she knit her brow as a cloud of sadness settled upon her features. He held his breath. Her confession brought him life but there was still a part she had omitted. What had happened to prevent her truth from being revealed to him sooner? They could have realized their deeply seeded sentiments months ago instead of living in denial. Dread settled in his stomach as he slowly pieced together her glaringly obvious reasoning.

She shook her head resignedly, recalling that painful night. She hated to remember it. It was one of the biggest regrets of her life. She should have taken what was rightfully hers. Yes, she made it sound like he was some sort of carnival prize but she'd fallen in love with him. He was supposed to be her man, not some quirky tutor's.

She sighed, reluctant to say it aloud. "That night, you were right there, Crane, right in front of me but then she beat me to it, your Miss Corinth. That kiss, it-it hit me hard. And then it all just went to hell. Then I did. Literally." She widened her eyes for emphasis and to offset the terror associated with that time in her life.

He swallowed thickly. He felt horrified about his indiscretion but this blow Abbie had provided filled him with pure misery. The fact that she had – unbeknownst to him – chosen to remain at his side in the hope of initiating a relationship with him that very night only to sacrifice herself to months of torture tightly coiled his insides.

He didn't know. He shut his eyes tightly and held her hand, raising it to his lips pleading with her soft skin to forgive his negligence in failing to perceive her emotions. How could he not know? Her long-guarded heart had chosen him and he had betrayed her. She had suffered because of him. He may as well been the one to inflict those months of torture upon her. The air left his lungs as he processed this unrevealed truth. He roughly kissed her hand and pressed it against his knit brow.

Realizing that he was spiraling, she quickly reached up with her other hand to brush his hair off his forehead. "Hey, hey now. Don't, don't do that. I'm not blaming you, Crane, for any of it. I'm not telling you all this just to make you feel worse." She rubbed his cheek pleadingly as he continued silently berating himself. "Ichabod, please."

He opened his eyes, lowering her hand, and blinked sorrowfully at her. Though she had every right in the world to hate him, she gazed up at him in concern, her hand never leaving his cheek. He closed his eyes once again and imperceptibly shook his head. She was an angel sent by the heavens above to save him. He did not deserve her forgiveness.

She softly cradled his face in her hands, her heart melting at his show of sincere regret. "Hey now, look at me. I need you to look at me."

He reluctantly opened his eyes, guilt reflecting in his blue gaze. She looked at him determinedly. "It's not like that. Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault, Crane. Trust me. I just need you to understand where my mind was at the time."

He shook his head in refusal, guilt plaguing his insides. "If it were not for my thoughtless actions, you would not have–"

"Crane, no."

He placed his hands over hers and lowered her hands from his cheeks. He took a step away from her, his eyes downcast in shame. He could not hold her gaze, not when he knew the truth. "Had I thwarted that cursed kiss, had you confessed your true sentiments toward me, you wouldn't have felt it necessary to distance yourself from me. You wouldn't have sacrificed yourself and suffered all that torment for months on end. Your suffering is entirely my fault, Lieutenant, undoubtedly and utterly my fault."

She tilted her head tiredly. He was taking on all the blame for events beyond his control. Softly huffing, she crossed her arms, her eyes shifting away from him and resting her weight against the counter. She felt mildly irritated by his reaction, his willingness to accept the blame for everything bad that's ever happened to her could get overwhelming at times. She carried enough guilt for the two of them. It didn't make sense for him to carry the weight of the world, too.

Raising her eyebrows, she quietly reiterated what she held to be true. "None of what happened was your fault, Crane. You didn't know. I made my decisions. I could have been honest with you but I wasn't. That's on me, just me. Sacrificing myself for my sister had nothing to do with you. Even if things had turned out differently between us, I would have done it again. Every time."

They allowed the words to settle between them. The quietness of their sunny kitchen lending a contrast to their current mood. After a moment, she looked up at him calmly. Sensing her gaze, he looked up and searched her honest, brown eyes. He did not want to be excused of any culpability yet he realized she was right. Grace Abigail Mills was a force of nature and nothing would stop her from sacrificing herself for her family. She'd proven this fact repeatedly in the time he'd known her. It was what made her selfless, divine. It was why she was chosen by God to be a Witness. It was why he loved her. He nodded in understanding as she guardedly stared at him.

His hands fluttered at his sides as he attempted to accept her rationalization. Though she was correct, he felt disinclined to relinquish his guilt. Logic led him down that obvious path of culpability. However, she would not allow him to bear the guilt he felt he justly deserved. He could see it in her eyes. He forced himself to accept the uneasy task of accepting what she perceived as fact. He couldn't possibly deny her that.

He licked his lips nervously. "'Tis near impossible not to assign myself the blame, Lieutenant. And yet, you are correct, as always. I must respect your choices and decisions. I cannot disparage your sacrifices in pursuit of an eased conscience."

She nodded slowly, though his apology had come a bit late. The air had become thick with tension, an uncomfortable silence filling the room. The trust they'd built between them did not come without its moments of discomfort. This was one of those moments. They were both stubborn people therefore reluctant to accept truths that conflicted with what they held to be true. Though this time it was mostly his "hang-ups", as she referred to them, that instigated this tension.

They couldn't bring themselves to acknowledge each other's unease until Abbie looked up at her unusually quiet partner. She could see withheld emotions warring within him. His perturbed expression gave that away. Hoping to quickly alleviate the momentary rift between them, she wearily asked, "What is it, Crane?"

He shook his head uneasily. "If we are to be honest with one another, Lieutenant, then I-I must confess that I have experienced a moment of doubt as well."

She raised her eyebrow questioningly. If he had doubts about them or her, they must be well-founded. She just couldn't think of anything worth doubting for the life of her. "About us or me specifically?"

"Both, if I am to be forthright."

"Alright," she acknowledged calmly, though she felt a twinge of unease, resorting to her logical tactics of detached reasoning. "What doubt?"

Ichabod had not admitted this to her mostly out of fear that it seemed petty and it revealed his insecurities to her. However, it was important that she know the truth. He couldn't bear to commit the same mistake twice.

He licked his lips hesitantly. "Agent Reynolds referred to me once as an 'exit strategy'. At the time, I did not understand the meaning behind his assertion. However, that is no longer the case." He steadily held her gaze, searching for proof of his doubt being true.

She looked at him curiously, clueless as to what he meant. "What do you mean?"

Observing no indication of recognition, he sighed heavily. It appeared his concern, though reasonable, was unfounded. Nevertheless, he needed confirmation. "Lieutenant, am I preventing you from achieving your full potential? Again?"

She looked at him in surprise. Never did she think his doubt would have anything to deal with her potential. She wasn't sure if she should take it as a compliment or insult. She furrowed her brow in confusion. "My potent…the hell you talking about, Crane?"

"In the past, you delayed achieving your desired career for me. Given my recent inability to perceive your true feelings on important matters, it may be that you've confined yourself to this town out of a sense of duty to our mission, not necessarily by choice," he stated matter-of-factly, awaiting her response on bated breath.

She raised her eyebrow incredulously. She had no idea where this was coming from but it seemed that it was something he'd been holding onto for quite some time. She blinked rapidly as she tried to process what he was telling her. "Let me get this straight. You think I'm here because I don't want to be here?

He knit his brow, realizing how she could have misinterpreted his meaning. He attempted to quickly backtrack, "Well, I, no, that is not-"

She swiftly interrupted him. "Really? 'Cause that's what it sounds like right now." She crossed her arms defensively, amazed that he would think that she would put herself through all of this out of some misguided sense of duty or because she felt like she had no choice.

He raised his hands in attempt to ease the intensified situation. He'd managed to worsen the mood with his ridiculous theory. He needed to clarify the situation. "Lieutenant, that is not what I-"

She held her hand up abruptly, silencing him immediately as he lowered his hands. She slowly approached him, her voice low and firm. "Not you or any other person decides my past, present, or future. I am where I am and I did what I did because they were my choices, not anybody else's. Me putting off Quantico was my decision, it was what I thought was best at the time. Me living here in Sleepy Hollow is my choice. I want this life, I chose this life, and I chose you. We clear on that?" She widened her eyes to emphasize her point, providing him with no chance of challenging her assertion.

He nodded once as he looked down upon her tiny form, wordlessly accepting her word on the matter. She had a control over him that both assured and excited him. Her presence, as small as it was, was powerful and unmoving. She needn't convince him of her claim.

A ripple of fear mixed with arousal spread down his body. Farewell, decorum. Acknowledging both her assertion and the control she had over him, he managed to uneasily breath, "Indeed."

"Good," she replied assertively, "Now, get over here." She closed the distance between them and hastily pulled him into her arms, her cheek firmly resting against his chest.

At first, feeling off guard he stood absolutely still. Then he automatically wrapped his arms around her, enfolding her in a tight embrace. He rested his bearded cheek atop her head, relieved to be in sync with her once again. He could sense their bond grow stronger.

It was necessary they air these long held misconceptions. It felt as if they'd destroyed a giant barrier between them. Contentment filled their hearts. She squirmed happily for a moment before sighing in relief as if sensing the exact same.

After thoroughly basking in each other's understanding, she mumbled against his soft shirt, "Are we done?"

He knit his brow as he murmured into her hair. "Done?"

"Mmm. This, bringing up the past, my jealousy, are we done?"

He softly rested his lips against the top of her head. "I shall leave that decision in your very capable hands, Lieutenant."

She huffed and said with finality in her voice. "Fine, it's done. No more."

"Very well."

"I don't like bringing up the past but this felt right. Necessary."

"I concur."

"S'right," she said wriggling in his arms, "You keep on concurring with me and maybe I'll let you stick around."

His chest rumbled with a soft chuckle. "Mmm, I hope you do." He adored her completely in that moment.

She couldn't help but teasingly add, "Then again, who knows if you want to share your life with me? Maybe you're doing this out of some misguided sense of duty?"

His smile faded as he pulled away slightly and looked down at her. He could not allow her to doubt his intentions. She deserved to feel certain of his love for her, anything less would be unacceptable.

He lowered his hands until he held hers in his. He studied her face solemnly, hoping to convey his seriousness. "Our bond surpasses that of duty, Lieutenant. You and I were chosen to find each other and to remain together through the insurmountable challenges that await us. We were selected by God's very hand to not only defeat evil but to find love in one another. And if I were to die in this moment, I would die a very fortunate man. I have found my soulmate despite the impossibility of my very existence."

She flashed a quivering smile at him, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "You always find the right things to say, don't you?" she said softly, her heart preventing any other word from escaping without her voice breaking.

He gazed into her glassy eyes, assuredly confirming everything he held in his heart for her. "My only desire is to remain at your side for the rest of my days, Lieutenant. I am entirely yours."

They entwined their fingers, smiles overtaking their features. He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed her soft skin with a look of ecstasy on his face. She breathed in shakily, though his words had put her heart to rest, his kisses were awakening something else entirely.

He continued laying kisses upon her hands reverently as he murmured against her skin, without stopping to think twice, "If I didn't know any better, Lieutenant, this sounds as if this could be leading to a proposal."

She gripped at his hands tightly, putting an abrupt end to his caresses. His eyes flew open in realization as he lowered her hands. He had not meant to spring that upon her. His lips parted as panic overtook his senses. He awaited her quick dismissal but it never came.

She simply gazed at him curiously. "Like...marriage?"

He raised his eyebrow and tilted his head suggestively. Though he would take those vows with her in a heartbeat, he understood her aversion to rushing into such a commitment. She required time to solidify what she felt for him. He would not rush her into making such a commitment to him.

He did his best to communicate his lightheartedness behind his comment, not wanting her to feel pressured. "You voiced it, not I."

Realizing that he was quickly trying to put up a front for what he'd unintentionally suggested, she stopped to consider his words. He wanted marriage, probably the whole white picket fence deal with a bunch of little Ichabods running around. But was that what she wanted? After experiencing that blatant manipulation in hell, she couldn't say for sure that she'd be willing to give him everything he wanted. Though, it seemed like they already had foundation for it. They had the house - no white picket fence yet - and they had the commitment to each other. But kids, that was something she'd never really pictured as a possibility.

After experiencing what the life of a Witness had done to Crane's botched attempt at fatherhood, she could see the benefit of holding off on kids but for how long? Who knew how long these next tribulations would take? Who knew if they would even survive it? The more she thought about it, the more she realized she could never put a child through the instability she'd experienced as a child, let alone the instability of the life of a Witness. She just hoped Crane was on the same page as her.

"What about kids? How do you feel about kids?" she asked abruptly.

His smirk faded as he realized that she was truly considering what their commitment could entail. A bond like theirs could easily lead to marriage which naturally led to progeny. Though gazing into her eyes, he could sense her hesitancy and doubt on the matter.

He reassured her, "Children with you would be a blessing beyond my wildest imaginings. However, given our line of work and my past experience as the father to one of the four horseman of the apocalypse, you can rest assured that it is a decision I would leave entirely in your capable hands. If you desire children, then I shall give my very life to protect and care for them. But if you have no desire to up bring children in our unpredictable world, then I agree with you wholeheartedly."

"So you're good either way?"

"Yes, I am good either way, Lieutenant."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, well, in that case, I don't want kids. Not right now. Maybe when this is all over but not until then."

"Very well, as do I."

She nodded, heat rising up her cheeks realizing she'd have to add a bit more detail. "Not having kids doesn't mean we can't...you know...do things," she said, berating herself silently for her sudden prudishness.

He smiled knowingly. "Lieutenant, I was a married man for several years before we conceived a child. Abstinence between a young married couple wasn't common."

She pursed her lips, trying to hide her embarrassment. Of course, he didn't need her to explain how all that worked. "Right, of course, you-that...right."

He slipped his hands from her grip and rested them lightly on her back. It sent shivers up her spine. He lowered his lips to her ear. "And, in view of the onslaught of incessant advertisements on your various forms of media, I am quite familiar with the contraceptives your generation has invented to prevent such conception from ever occurring."

She audibly swallowed, a shuddering breath escaping her lips. "Right."

He gently kissed her ear, as he lowered his voice, "There is also the matter of pre-marital relations. You've made your position on that issue quite clear. Fortunately, I am of the same mind."

"God," she breathed, her fingers gripping his arms tightly. Her eyes fluttered open in realization. "I mean, good. That's good."

He continued to lay gentle kisses against her neck, pulling her closer to his firm body. She whimpered helplessly, tilting her head slightly to give him better access. He licked at her salty skin and laid a kiss on the same spot. "Though, I wouldn't object to a proposal," he murmured seductively, as he nosed at her soft earlobe.

She breathlessly replied, her eyes closed blissfully. "You're kind of putting me on the spot here, Crane," she managed to rasp out.

He smirked against her skin. He continued kissing her neck, walking her back against the kitchen counter. "Forgive me, Lieutenant. My humor is lacking at the moment." He brusquely lifted her and sat her on the edge of the counter. "I am entirely yours whether you put a ring on it or not."

Ignoring his cheesy line, she locked her knees on his hips, pulling him closer. She gripped at his shirt, lowering his lips closer to hers. He rested his palms against the marble, entrapping her within his arms. Without touching his lips, she sweetly breathed into his mouth, "At least give me enough time to rent out the Jumbotron at the next hockey match."

"Oh, Lieutenant, I require no audience." He groaned and chased her lips with his, eager to put an end to her torturous teasing.

She evaded his lips, kissing his chin instead. He moaned in frustration until her lips traveled down his jawline to his ear. She captured his earlobe between her teeth, gently tugging on it as her lips quickly traveled down the tense chords of his throat. She sucked gently on his skin, leaving damp, red marks in her wake. He sighed embarrassingly loud, quickly biting his lips to prevent louder moans from escaping.

Her eager kisses turned into her dragging her lips against his throat whilst she recounted a memory that had plagued her for a while now.

"You know, first thing I saw when I went into Pandora's tree was this house. I thought I was dreaming," she sighed against his skin, remembering her daze.

"Then I looked down and saw a ring. The same one that has saved my life more times than I can count. But when I saw it, I was scared out of my mind. It meant I was committed to someone, for better or for worse."

She kissed his throat as her lips traveled along his other jaw line.

"Then you were there. I didn't want to believe it. But that's what they counted on, me refusing to believe it. Me deciding to destroy my own happiness because of my doubts," she whispered against his ear, sending him into a whirlwind of emotions ranging from arousal to sadness.

She pulled away and rested her forehead against his as she untied the laces of his shirt.

"God, he really knew how to play me. Found all the insecurities I'd ever felt and just shoved it in my face. I believed it for a while, thought I wasn't worthy. And then this happened, us, and it's better than what I could have ever imagined."

Once his shirt was open, she rested her fingers against his chest, gently scratching it, enjoying the feel of his manly hair beneath her fingers. His hands found their way to her waist as he gazed at her, his eyelids half shut in arousal. Her palms slid up until her fingers threaded themselves through the hair on the nape of his neck.

She pulled away and stared into his darkened gaze. "For the first time in my life, I feel worthy. Of love, of you, of everything. This, me and you, this is real. I don't need anybody telling me what I deserve. I make those decisions. I don't need an audience or a Jumbotron to witness it. I just need you."

She looked at him confidently. He cupped her face in his hands, closed his eyes, and leaned in to finally capture her lips. She gripped at his hair lightly as he worshipped her soft pillowy lips, expertly tugging at them with his eager, pink ones. She moaned in satisfaction, the fluttering in her stomach urging her forth. He lightly ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, eager to deepen the kiss. She parted her lips allowing him access to her addictive warm taste. He groaned with pleasure. They kissed deeply, intensely, as if it was their first and last.

* * *

 ** _Okay, okay, I promised smut and this was more like teasing smut. Promise the next one is entirely dedicated to these characters finally consummating their…you know what? How about I just let you read on? :P_**


	19. Chapter 19

After temporarily satisfying himself with her taste, Ichabod pulled away. His insides fluttering, a feeling of anticipation growing within him. With his eyes still closed, he murmured against her lips, "Abbie."

She was done talking. Words would only stop her from getting to what she really wanted and she wanted him. Now.

Her mouth parted further, her supple lips sensually rubbing against his. His breath hitched as she teased his mouth. He breathed desperately against her lips, longing for her taste. After torturing him enough, she finally kissed him, achingly slow, taking pleasure in savoring his delicious moans.

With his restraint near nonexistent, he swiftly cradled the back of her head and reciprocated her attentions with a hungry kiss. She tasted of sweet fruit and passion. It captivated his senses. He could never get enough of her.

She moaned, stroking both sides of his face as he splayed his other hand against the curve of her hip. He needed to feel her close, she was the only thing anchoring him to this earthly plane at the moment. He was too euphoric to be certain if this was reality or some cruel dream he would be forced to abandon upon waking. Either way, he would make the most of this magnificent opportunity. They continued kissing, their lips in a mutual frenzy to savor the taste they'd denied themselves for so long.

Dissatisfied by the short distance between them, she wrapped her legs around him. She pulled his firm, lean body against her center, the heat radiating off his body providing a stark contrast to the cold marble beneath her. Or maybe the heat was coming from her? Either way, she needed more. She couldn't wait a second longer.

After a few glorious kissess, their swollen lips finally pulled away with a sensuous wet pop. She rested her forehead against his as she caught her breath. It was just the beginning and her body was already trembling. She was ready and she needed him like she'd never needed anything before in her life.

He swayed toward her but caught himself. He probably assumed she was having another episode so he'd stopped. She could sense his reluctance to end it. She didn't mean for him to think she was cutting him off but their first time together wasn't going to happen on their kitchen counter. They needed a test run before they started exploring different positions and locations. They needed to get to know each other first, figure out what made them moan, what made them sigh, before they started being adventurous.

Quietly, she commanded, "Not here."

It took a moment but the crease in his brow disappeared when he realized she wanted to continue, just not in their kitchen. The pupils in his eyes dilated until only a thin ring of blue was visible, recognizing the permission she was granting him. She desired him as he did her. He could see it in her determined gaze. Her trauma and his rectitude would be set aside for them to revel in this moment of passion. The time had finally come. And though she'd said little, he assumed the convenience of his bedroom would be the setting in which their long-awaited union would occur.

Determinedly, he hooked both arms underneath her legs, gripping glorious handfuls of her ass, and lifted her off the counter. Though she held a sturdy countenance, his Lieutenant was as light as a feather. His eyes roamed over the delicate prize in his arms. She was an irresistibly beautiful temptress; a goddess sent to be worshipped and adored. He was a mere mortal blessed to lay eyes upon her, chosen to satisfy her every whim. Rest assured, he would play his part faithfully.

He maintained his hypnotized gaze on her as he carried her to his bedroom. She entwined her arms around his neck and managed to keep her legs wrapped in his arms as she returned his intense gaze. Unable to resist her sinful lips, he stole a few errant kisses as he padded down the short distance to his room.

Upon entering his room, he resumed passionately kissing her. Too caught up in the moment, he managed to close the door just in time for him to brusquely push her back against it. She moaned into his mouth, burying her fingers in his hair. He quickly released his grip on her legs opting to wrap his arms her waist instead. She tightened her legs around him, undulating her hips to let him know how much she was enjoying his attentions.

After a few impassioned moments, her lips began to descend down his chin, up his defined jaw and then down the tightened chords of his neck. He tilted his head to allow her better access, breathlessly sighing with every caress. He felt inebriated by the sensations. Every touch, every caress sent him further and further into an abyss of pleasure. Any hint of a sane thought disappeared from his mind.

Her legs slowly slid down his body as she gradually released her grip on him. He continued holding her tightly, refusing to release his grip for fear of interrupting their moment. Though, as she continued kissing him oh so titillatingly, his arms gradually lost their strength. She lightly licked his Adam's Apple as her lips traveled down to the hollow dip of his neck. He swallowed thickly. Her sinfully wet tongue flicked at the indentation inspiring a sharp inhale on his part. If she continued, she would surely drive him mad. She left a trail of kisses along his clavicle until her tiptoes finally skimmed the ground.

Her feet landed on the floor with a soft thud. She ran her hands down the front of his shirt until she reached the waist of his britches. His breath hitched at the sight. How could he possibly last in the aroused state he was in? It seemed impossible as her fingers began to tug at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it untucked. His eyelids fluttered as he felt her warm hands snake under it, her fingernails gently scraping up his abdomen. Delicious tingling ran through his body as a throaty gasp escaped his lips. His weak legs stepped forward as if by their own volition. He wanted to be closer to her. His length hardened, straining against the confines of his trousers as if to seek her touch.

Her fingers lightly stroked the hair on his chest as her palms slid across its broad expanse. The heat of her palms sent chills up his spine. She watched him carefully with her wide brown eyes, studying his reactions. He groaned and closed his eyes, resting his hand above her against the door, too weakened by her caresses to stand without support. No woman had ever reduced him to such state so quickly. He felt weak yet eager to please her, vulnerable yet incredibly aroused. He drowsily opened his eyes, his gaze immediately landing on her slightly parted lips. He needed another taste. He gently gripped her chin and leaned down to capture her lips possessively. He moaned as his tongue tasted glory.

His tongue expertly explored her mouth, her center already pleading with her to get the show on the road. She needed to feel him inside her, giving her that delicious friction her body needed. Feeling impatient, she pulled away and hastily pulled off her shirt. He laid kisses upon the shoulders she uncovered. It wasn't enough. She needed to feel him against her, skin on skin, body against body. She demandingly pulled at his shirt, wordlessly indicating her need for him to discard it.

So he did. Quickly.

She tugged at the waistband of his pants ready to get to the action but the instant her fingers edged into them, he grabbed her wrists and forcefully pinned them against the door. She gasped in surprise at his roughness. He mirrored her expression, an apologetic look quickly taking its place.

"I...," he swallowed thickly and licked his lips nervously, feeling foolish for stopping her. He could only hope she understood his need for a slower pace. He couldn't possibly endure all of the stimulation she was providing and be expected to perform long enough to achieve her satisfaction.

"Please, allow me," he requested, finally finding his voice as he quietly gazed at her, hoping to wordlessly convey what he was asking.

She gave a hint of a smile before nodding subtly. If he wanted things slow, she could do slow. She wanted this to be a good experience for him, not one he would want to forget. Besides, she'd be lying if she said his rough move hadn't turned her on a bit. Normally, she wasn't into getting freaky like that but Crane was inspiring a whole new side to herself.

He maintained eye contact as he drew a shuttering breath and released his grasp. He gazed into her eyes passionately as he slowly kneeled, lightly sliding the pads of his fingers down her exposed arms and body in the process. She sighed in delight. If this was the pace he wanted, he'd hear no complaints from her. He kept his face close to her skin, his pink lips dragging down her smooth, warm flesh, periodically stopping to lay a kiss upon her flawless skin. His prickly beard and hot breath tickled her. She trembled, her head lolling back against the door. Yeah, slow could be good.

His face and hands stopped at the waistband of her jeans. He deftly unbuttoned them with his long fingers as she glanced down, her chest heaving rapidly. He gripped the fabric tightly and pulled it down, peeling it from her legs along with her socks. Her firm, brown legs slightly shook with anticipation.

Once the clothing had been carelessly discarded, he gently laid kisses on the tops of her naked thighs, his hands sliding up the back of her smooth legs. His fingertips slid under the leg bands of her underwear lightly massaging her ass. She leaned her head back. _Fuck, he was good at this._ She would end up melting if he kept it up. She breathily sighed, prepared to turn into a puddle.

She was getting comfortable when all of a sudden, he effortlessly maneuvered one of her legs over his shoulder, laying the palm of his hand flat against her lower back. He gave her a firm, abrupt push, her hips jolting toward his face. She knit her brow, her brain slow to process what was happening, until he leaned in to kiss the front of the thin fabric of her panties. She blinked in surprise.

Crane was planning to go down on her.

Abbie had read up on the colonial dos and don'ts of sex - curiosity had gotten the best of her one day - and, just as she'd predicted, oral sex wasn't something people had even bothered to record any evidence of happening. Sure, sex was common but nobody had spent time documenting types or positions. So she'd assumed if there would ever be any hanky panky between her and Crane, it would be pretty straightforward, insert slot A into slot B type stuff. But as he nosed at the thin fabric, his hot tongue insistently lapping at the outline of her folds, the thought quickly flew out the window.

Crane was far more educated on these matters than she thought. Her upper back rested against the door as she moaned. How he knew what to with his tongue to get her wet enough to soak through the fabric between her legs was beyond her. She wanted to ask but then he delicately rubbed his knuckle against the soaked fabric. His feathery touch inspiring her hips to roll as if they had a mind of their own. She whimpered as she gripped at his arm. He definitely knew what he was doing.

He looked up at her with a passionate gaze as he pulled the fabric aside, exposing her glistening dark folds, and gently rubbed his thumb against her slick, sensitive button.

"Ah, damn," she whimpered, looking down at him desperately, knowing she'd soon lose the battle to her weakened knees. He was quickly pushing her toward the edge of sanity and she was unwilling to stop it.

He locked eyes with her as he leaned his head forward and tasted her tentatively, she bit her lip to keep from screaming out. She had never imagined his hot tongue against her like this and now that it was happening, her core fluttered wildly in anticipation. It was new. It was hot. It was so not what she expected. She breathed lustily. God, this man was full of surprises, she briefly thought as his lips and tongue buried themselves further into her folds.

She couldn't help it, a loud moan escaped her throat quickly turning into a curse. "Ahhh, fuck!"

Sensing her pleasure, he parted her folds with his tongue, lapping at her wet pink flower. He had never seen a woman so beautiful or taste something so addicting. She was incredibly lovely. He would die happily right here between her legs. He relished her taste, delighted in her ecstacy. He took her sensitive folds in his mouth and gently nipped and sucked on them as if eating a ripe, juicy peach. Her nails dug into his arm as her other hand tightly gripped a handful of his hair.

She whimpered breathlessly, mewling in ecstasy. She could feel her juices coat her sensitive lips as his tongue dipped in and out of her. Then, finally, he captured her sensitive nub with his lips and tongue. He gently sucked on it. Her pelvis jerked, her legs shook, and she swore she nearly died.

Ichabod's eyelids fluttered shut in bliss as he pulled her firm button into his mouth. He moaned as he savored her taste as he would a sweet delicacy. His tongue darted out, lapping at her juices that nearly dripped past his eager mouth. He would not allow a single drop to go to waste. Her body had released her sweet nectar solely for him and he would take it all for himself. He possessively gripped her hips, widening his mouth to taste all of her.

Her body vibrated as he continued going down on her like a starving man. Nothing would distract or stop him from what he was doing to her, of that much she was sure. She leaned back against the door with her eyes shut tight, her hand gripping him tightly, trying not to lose her balance. She quickly lost the battle. Her knees weakened and she began wobble.

She whimpered and clawed at his hair. "I can't...Crane, I-I..." She pleaded nonsensically hoping he could interpret her groans.

As if understanding her perfectly, he reluctantly pulled away, laying kisses between her thighs as if to reassure them of his return. He arose swiftly and easily lifted her, carrying her to bed. Once her back hit the comforter of his bed, he kneeled and roughly slid her to him until her hips were hanging off the edge of the bed. He parted her legs and hastily placed them over his shoulders once more. She gasped as he buried his face deep within her thighs again, her back arching off the mattress.

Damn, he was eager. She'd never been with a man who was so enthusiastic about eating her out. Usually, she'd make it a point to bypass the oral part and get directly to the main event. In fact, she preferred it but with Crane, it looked like this was his favorite part judging by his relentlessness and noises of pleasure. She hadn't heard this much moaning from him since the time she bought him a boxful of variety gourmet donuts. She didn't mind. It was as if he'd figured out the rhythm to her body and was faithfully keeping in tune. If he kept this up, this part would quickly become her favorite part, too.

Teasingly slow, he slid a finger inside her. Focusing his tongue on her tight bundle of nerves, he slid another one of his long digits in and out of her, inspiring sinfully wet sounds to fill the air. The pressure inside her quickly built up. He curled his fingers just so and she felt a tingle in her hips. He continued his delicious consistency, oblivious to everything except her taste and her clenching around his fingers. A warm fluttering spread from her center as his tongue and lips continued their ministrations. Suddenly a flashing stroke of pleasure settled over her entire pelvis. Her thighs clenched together as her hips bucked off the bed. He held a firm grip of her legs preventing her from crushing his head as he continued.

She choked out, as the heat spread out, her legs shaking, "Ah, shhhiiit!"

She raised her pelvis, burying his face deeper, as she came with a jolt. She wailed in pure pleasure. Her muscles clenched around his fingers as if wanting to pull them in deeper. It felt so damn good. Her entire body jolted from the impact. He kept his mouth on her, faintly reminding her of a bull rider hanging on for dear life as its bull tried to buck him off. She couldn't control the spasms of her body but it looked like that wasn't going to be enough to keep him away from her.

After the pulsations faded, he pulled out his fingers and gripped her hips. He sensually lapped at her release as he would a melting ice cream cone with his favorite ice cream. He even quietly breathed words of ecstasy against her.

"Oh, exquisite. Delicious," he whispered to himself as he licked her clean.

Spots of white light appeared before her eyes as she shuddered from the pleasure. It was intense and they hadn't even gotten to main event. She breathed in unsteadily as she felt her pelvis twitch against his buried face. He would be the end of her.

Once he'd finished his task, he lowered her legs from his shoulders and planted gentle kisses on her thighs and below her navel as she weakly lay back against the bed, feeling deliciously boneless. He slowly pulled her soaked panties off her legs and caressed her smooth dangling legs once again. He moved her a bit more toward the center of the bed so she wasn't hanging off the edge. She barely registered anything through the foggy haze of satisfaction. He stepped away from her as she recovered, taking time to pull off his boots and stockings.

Once she'd regained some sense, she sat up in bed, her hair disheveled and her skin flushed. She watched him take off his boots and socks for a moment before she maneuvered her way off the bed. If this was happening, it wasn't going to happen on the comforter. Her perfectionism wouldn't allow it.

Ichabod licked his lips as if looking upon his long-awaited prey. She bent over his bed, preparing it for them, unaware of how inspiring she looked half-naked, her perfect ass in the air. He silently walked up behind her as she straightened back up, ready to take a step back and admire her work. She ran into his solid chest, nearly losing her balance. He gripped her arms to steady her. She gasped as he lowered his head to the side of her neck.

"I could take you like this," he whispered gruffly, as he nosed her earlobe.

His possessive tone sent shivers up her back as his fingers caressed her arms, making their way to the back clasp of her bra. He swiftly unhooked it and slid the straps off her shoulders. The item fell to her feet. He continued nosing at her neck and hair, as if memorizing her scent. His hands stroked up her sides, resting beneath her heavy breasts, stroking the underside of them with the knuckle of his thumbs. She reached up with one hand to clasp the back of his neck. She pulled him in for a kiss.

She slightly pulled away and whispered against his lips with a teasing smile, "You think you can handle my double-jugs?"

He grinned as released his neck and turned her body toward him. He closed his eyes in embarrassment, clearly understanding how that word did not have a place in bedroom discourse. She looked up at him, her face scrunching in amusement and entwined her hands in his. He opened them again and gazed down at her with humor in his eyes.

"You will never let me forget that, will you?"

"Mmm," she pondered aloud for a moment before deciding, "I don't think so."

He rolled his eyes away lightheartedly, his lips pursed. Her body shook with a contained chuckle. He shook his head as she enjoyed the moment. After her mirthful laughter faded away, she gazed up at him steadily.

 _God's wounds, she's beautiful_ , he thought contemplated her bright gaze and naked body. How could he have resisted this long? How had he not realized she was utterly perfect for him? God had literally preserved him for centuries to find this woman and it had taken him this long to fully appreciate the significance of it. Prophecies on a tablet were simply words, what he was currently experiencing transcended such meager divinations. Everything he had endured, everyone he had lost, not only had it occurred for the earth's greater good but for his own greater good.

As he gazed down upon her, his heart filled with emotion. She was his other half. There was no denying it. She understood him as no one had before, she pushed him to grow as no one had before. She opened his heart, eyes, and soul to the beauty of her world. And he'd fell in love, not only with her world but with her.

After an entire lifetime of choices being made for him, after a lifetime of settling for what came easy, he'd found her. He chose her and she chose him. With it, came its challenges but it was exactly what he needed, what he wanted.

"Crane?" She looked at him curiously, his eyes getting a faraway look.

His eyes snapped to hers and he gave her a reassuring grin. She smiled back as he lifted her hands to his lips, kissing them reverently.

She bit her lip as her mind settled on an idea. "Sit," she ordered, maneuvering him closer to the bed.

He raised his eyebrow but wordlessly obeyed. He sat on the edge of the bed, his head slightly tilted up to follow her hypnotizing gaze. She stood between his legs and released their hands. She lowered her face, cupped his bearded face, and kissed his upturned lips. His hands rested on her hips comfortably.

Feeling prepared to move this along, he pulled away and began to gently grope her full breasts. Her lips parted as he massaged them, drawing swirling patterns around her nipples with his thumbs. He gently kissed the round mounds before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her down on top of him. They kissed for a moment, enjoying their position, until she pulled away, climbing off the bed.

Confused he began to sit up but she roughly pushed him back down. "My turn now," she said firmly.

His breath hitched as he blinked in realization. Her intention was to bring him pleasure as he did her. His hands nervously gripped the bed sheet beneath him. He had personally never experienced such pleasures. They were common in his time - lord knows how many times he'd witnessed it being performed in the brothels Abraham had taken him to once he'd arrived in America - but it was never something he felt comfortable allowing, not even with Katrina.

Allowing it meant allowing himself to be powerless, to allow himself to release his control, and he had never felt comfortable with anyone enough to do it. Until Abbie.

She laid a kiss on his torso, her fingers gently pulling at his waistband. He controlled his breathing, his body tensing beneath her touch. She unbuttoned his trousers but instead of taking time to remove each article of clothing left on him, she hastily pulled his trousers down along with his boxers. They slid down his long legs as the thick, curly hair of his apex gave way to his fully erect cock. He gasped in surprise. Leave it to Abbie to not waste a moment.

Once released from its confines, his thick cock bounced against his thigh. It was rigid, thick, and long. Her breath hitched as she gazed at his magnificence, glistening and ready for her. She'd always known he was blessed but this was something else. She felt mild trepidation as she took him in her small hands. His hips jerked forward involuntarily.

"Mmm, Abbie," he moaned, his knuckles turning white from how firmly gripped the sheets.

Hearing her name gave her confidence as she gently stroked his velvety cock pulling gasps from his throat. She returned the passionate gaze he'd given her a few moments ago as she lowered her head to experimentally tasted him, her tongue lapping at the drops of cum beading from his tip. His hips jerked forward. He tasted salty, uniquely him. She needed more. She grabbed a firm hold of him and slid him through her lips. He whimpered. She sucked on him, eventually licking and pumping, realizing how natural it felt to have him between her lips. His cock hardened even more, turning an intense shade as she continued sliding him in and out, taking him all the way to the back of her throat.

Ichabod felt his entire body burn in desire. It felt as if she'd ignited a trail of Greek fire from his bawbels down the entirety of his arbor vitae. He could not last much longer. Her lips, her mouth, her tongue, surrounded him, lapped at him, drawing him closer and closer to his peak. He made noises of ecstasy as his pelvis began to jerk erratically.

He desperately called her name, "Abbie, treasure, not-not like this." He gripped her arm pleadingly.

She pulled away as he shut his eyes tightly and inhaled controlled breaths. He let out a growl as he attempted to control himself. She rested her hands on his thighs as he breathed harshly. She smiled and bit her lip. It appeared she wasn't half bad at that for her first time.

She'd never felt inspired to go down on any of her past boyfriends but with Crane, it was different. She wanted to taste all of him. She wanted to know what it was like to bring him to the edge with just her hands and mouth. Now she knew and it was glorious. Maybe next time she'd push him over that edge but not today. Not now at least.

Once he regained control of himself, he opened his eyes. She smirked at him, her eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Lieutenant," he murmured between shallow breaths.

She smiled seductively as she stood from her kneeled position. Hearing 'Lieutenant' come from his lips as he lay defenselessly naked in front of her, at full mast, made her feel something possessive. She could already imagine a few scenarios in which the appropriate response would be 'Captain' but she'd save that for later. She was too aroused to think about anything creative at the moment.

Eagerness bubbled within her as she climbed on top of him. She straddled his narrow hips, this time she could feel his hard cock against the inside of her thigh. She couldn't help but lower herself, lightly rubbing her sensitive lips against the length of it. His cock felt amazing, providing her with the friction she needed. She threw her head back, resting one hand on his stomach and the other behind her on his leg to maintain her balance. She could do this all night.

He moaned loudly as his hips undulated underneath her, feeling her wet, hot center glide along his painfully rigid member. He gazed at her half-lidded, nearly losing his breath as he watched her sit astride him and throw her head back in bliss. She looked absolutely divine. His hips undulated beneath her.

She whimpered, losing herself in the sensations and his enthusiastic response. She rolled her hips against him again, already feeling the pressure within her build up again.

It was too much. Far too much. She'd already stimulated him to the point of no return. If he didn't put an end to it now, this would certainly result in one of the precipitous unions in history. He abruptly flipped her over, doing his best to keep his sensitive parts away from her reach, as he kissed her. He needed to take back control of the situation. He ceremoniously lowered his lips down her neck and to her chest. He laid kisses upon her full breasts, quickly capturing her nipple in his eager mouth. His tongue drew swirls around it, his teeth gently tugging on it before pulling it into his mouth. She buried her fingers in his hair, sobbing in pleasure.

Once he'd had his momentary fill, his lips found hers once again. He finally lowered his body closer to hers. She widened her legs, the inside of her thighs caressing his hips, her stiff nipples deliciously dragging against his chest. He leaned in, his lips near her ear.

"Prophylactic," he breathed, "Do you have any?"

Touched by the fact that he was still in all his right senses – unlike her – to ask.

"No," she moaned, "I'm fine. We're fine." She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer.

He froze and gave her a look of uncertainty. In all the excruciating modern sex talks she'd managed to sneak into their conversations, the use of prophylactics was a standard she had insisted was customary when participating in any 'penetrative' (a word he despised using) sexual act. Aside from obviously resulting in conception, she'd been sure to inform him of all the horrifying diseases – explicit photographs included – associated with unprotected sex. She'd even forced him to endure the unpleasant task of a thorough exam and a series of tests upon his return from Scotland. He swore that not even the most ill-reputed, nefarious colonial brothels placed their degenerate customers through such depraved acts.

Thus, her lack of interest in protection puzzled him. She'd nearly traumatized him for the rest of his life from engaging in a sexual act and now she was informing him it mattered not? He narrowed his eyes doubtfully. Either she was not in all her right senses or she was withholding a vital piece of information from him.

"Trust me, Crane. It'll be fine," she reassured him, attempting again to pull him closer.

Again, he remained still. He needed an explanation if they were to continue. "How?" he asked solemnly.

She sighed impatiently. She blinked up at him, realizing how serious he was taking this. She sighed again, realizing she'd have to stop and explain.

"I'm on the pill," she said with a prompting look, hoping he'd catch on quick.

He nodded slowly in understanding. His fear did not lie within the realm of fathering a child with her but rather within the realm of the disturbing images of sexually transmitted diseases she'd burned into his memory. Therefore, he remained skeptical. He knew of female contraceptives, an ingenious invention, but he understood their limitations. "What of diseases?"

It was her turn to give him a puzzled look. She studied him carefully, trying not to be offended, when she finally realized, he had taken all their sex talks to heart. He wanted them to be safe. He was looking out not just for him but for her, too. She closed her eyes with a warm smile before opening them once again and grabbing both sides of his face.

"I'm clean and you're clean. I'm not getting pregnant anytime soon so we're good," she explained logically, hoping to convince him.

A glint of hope flashed in his eyes but the uncertainty was still there. "Are you certain?"

"Undoubtedly certain," she said with a smile.

He inhaled deeply and nodded, finally accepting her certainty. He trusted her. If she said she was certain, then so be it. He would place all his worries aside and revel in the moment. If he could remember the ridiculous acronym for living in the moment, it would certainly be well suited for this. Fortunately, his mind was focused on the task at hand. He returned her smile and leaned in to capture her lips once again, seeking their pace and mood once again.

She wrapped her legs around him feeling his steel hard cock against her once again. She rolled her hips toward him, rubbing herself against him. "Ah, yeah," she sighed lustily, resting her hands on his sides. She wanted him inside her, giving her everything he had.

He reached down and took a firm hold of himself with his hand. He rubbed himself against her enjoying the light friction against his tip, lubricating himself with her juices. She moaned with pleasure. He forced himself to contain his elation, to subdue his eager need for release. At the moment, his main goal was to prepare her to take him. She was tiny and he was a sizable man. He didn't want to injure her.

Gazing down upon her intensely, he slowly entered her, her wet warmth welcoming him in. She groaned behind her closed lips as he continued pushing inside her. She felt heavenly. She sheathed him in a wet, hot, warm grip. He felt the pleasure surge through his veins. He cautiously looked down, watching himself fill her. It was the most arousing sight he'd ever laid eyes upon but he was not finished. He slowly pulled out, her glossy juices glistening on his member, and slowly entered her once more this time lifting her hips slightly. He pulled out once more before he filled her entirely as he pushed himself in to the hilt.

Holding back a scream, she clung to him as her center pulsed around him. "Fuck," she choked out.

He froze. "Treasure, are you alright?" Fearing he'd hurt her, he looked down at her in trepidation.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she grew accustomed to his size. She gripped his back tightly as she nodded. "Y-yeah. I'm good. I'm good. I just meant, God's wounds," she shakily gasped out, attempting to give him a reassuring smile.

He nodded as his fear was quickly replaced with lust. He swallowed thickly as he carefully pulled out again before pushing back in. Her body arched as she let out a contented sigh. It appeared that she had no trouble taking him, all of him. He slowly began stroking in and out of her at a gentle pace, resting his weight against his forearms, his body damp with sweat. Their bodies moved together in synchrony.

She could feel every inch of him, every veiny ridge, slide in and out of her. His thick girth stretched her out in the most incredible way. She could barely resist grinding herself against him mercilessly. She wanted him to find every inch inside her and claim it as his own. She wanted him slow, fast, on top, underneath, to the side, in every way imaginable. Mostly, she wanted him fucking her senseless.

She let out a droning moan, pleading for more, "Ah, fuck, Crane. Yeah, harder, faster..."

He gazed at her in wonder, amazed that she knew exactly what she wanted from him. Never had a woman ever told him what she wanted. In the past, sex had mostly been a game of chance. It was 'hopeful she felt pleasure' or 'hopefully she didn't mind'. Her commands were stimulating and he was more than willing to please her. He leaned back on his knees and positioned her closer to the head of the mattress with his hips, their bodies still connected.

Not wanting to discomfort her, he placed a pillow between her and the headboard and one under her hips. He looked down at her glorious naked form before searching for her approval to continue. She nodded breathlessly. He tightly gripped her hips as he began to grind against her, his hard cock buried deep within her.

She bit her lip with pleasure, her stomach fluttering in anticipation. Her arm flew above her head, her palm slapping against the headboard. She could tell she would need to hang on for this ride. His hips circled against hers for a few moments and then he began thrusting into her. Her nipples hardened and goosebumps covered her damp skin. He started slow and quickly began to drive into her hard and quick.

Seeking a better position, he leaned over her and gripped the edge of her headboard. Soon her headboard was knocking violently against the wall, steadily banging along with his increased speed. Her body vibrated from his forceful pumping. She clawed at the headboard behind her, her other hand resting against his taut, damp abdomen. She felt herself flutter around his thick, long dick as he continued to piston inside of her. She quickly realized that she wouldn't have to touch herself to reach her peak. Her hands lowered to her sides, gripping the sheets beneath her, as he continued to propel in and out of her.

Suddenly, the tingle turned into a snaking heat spreading throughout her center sending strong pulsations throughout her core. He continued pounding into her giving her the perfect, deep, constant stroke she needed to push her over the edge. She clamped around him and yelped out in pure pleasure. Her pelvis flew off the pillow and grinded against his in thrashing desperation. He'd sent her into her second climax of the night and it felt just as strong, if not stronger. She clawed at his ass and pulled him in deeper, wanting to feel him fill every inch of her.

Ichabod slowed momentarily as her hands clenched his backside. He felt her center pulse tightly around him, keeping him in a vice grip inside her. Her thighs crushed him as her pelvis lifted off the bed. He growled in pure ecstasy. He could feel his own release beseeching him to relinquish his control. It was time.

He doubled over in painful desire. His hips, unable to resist, began thrusting against her erratically. She whimpered beneath him. He could still feel light pulsations around his member as her high came to an end. Dizziness set in, his sight became blurry as his hips thrust one final time. Her muscles pulled him deep inside her. Hot tingling spread throughout his spine as if hot candle wax were being poured down it. He clenched his eyes closed as his body became rigid. An intense pleasure shot throughout his pelvis. His throat only allowed a breathless gasp to escape as his thick seed surged from him, erupting deep within her. His tip throbbed with every hot spurt of his release. He drew in a shaky breath and shouted to the heavens above. Spots of white light filled his vision as he buried himself deep within her.

After a moment, his hips involuntarily thrust against her, this time a choked groan escaping his lips. She pulled him tightly against her as the aftershocks continued to jolt their hips against one another. Slowly, they both regained their senses, catching their breath in the process. Feeling less weakened, he carefully pulled out of her and flopped over on his back.

Licking his lips, he glanced over at her. Her bare breasts heaved, her naked skin lightly sheened in the sunlight. He quietly contemplated her tempting body. The curves of her stomach and hips, the marks left by his eager mouth peppering her supple skin, her swollen lips, her mussed hair, her thick eyelashes caressing her flushed cheeks, she was a goddess. She was his goddess. He could hardly believe that here she lay, finally, resting upon his tangled bed sheets after months of aching for this exact moment.

He quickly became aroused once again, his cock twitching alive. It astonished him. He usually required an hour or more to recover. But watching her, realizing how truly fortunate he was, realizing how in love he felt, it made him desperately want her and after years of unknowingly denying himself, his body would not waste a single opportunity.

* * *

 ** _So. Yeah. That's what happens when I keep two characters apart for so long. *shake my head* And here I thought I could keep it short and classy. :P It took two damn chapters! I hope you enjoyed it anyway!_**

 ** _Also, shout out to everybody involved with Ichabbie Weekend. It's what motivated me to keep writing, especially in spite of having to witness all of that weekend's unpleasantness (you know the terrible promotion of Season 4 of that one TV show, "The Misadventures of Abbie's Cousin, Steve")._**

 ** _Anyway, thanks to all the new artwork and fanfic, I found my motivation and actually have the first draft of this story's ending completed. That's quite an accomplishment in my book so thank you!_**

 ** _And thanks to everyone still reading and commenting on this humble story. I love each and every one of you! One more chapter and an epilogue to go!_**

 ** _Your classy af fanfic writer,_**

 ** _semul_**


	20. Chapter 20

**_Final chapter...enjoy!_**

* * *

Abbie played with the bar napkin in front of her dreamily. Her body was exhausted. She barely slept and couldn't walk without wincing but it was worth it.

Taking that step in their relationship had opened the floodgates to an insatiable Crane. He couldn't keep his hands off her and she was more than willing to oblige. They'd gone at it for days like a pair of desperate, hormonal teenagers at the end of the world. Though, unlike inexperienced youth, they took their time in ensuring that the other one achieved pleasure from their activities.

And God, did she ever.

She couldn't remember how many times she came. She knew it was a record but she hadn't been in the right state of mind to keep track of the exact number. She was fairly certain Crane couldn't remember the exact number of times either, even with his eidetic memory. She bit her bottom lip, still tender from his thorough attentions. Hiding a smile, she felt her stomach flip flop at the memory of how she'd drove him wild. His looks of surprise and pure pleasure had made her feel a sense of power, it made her feel safe and confident. It made her feel like a goddamn queen. So she'd fucked the ever living hell out him.

Of course, they had their slow, gentler moments but what had built up throughout their tension-filled partnership couldn't solely be expressed through tender lovemaking. It required dirty, ferocious, leg-shaking, good-old-fashioned fucking, which explained her current state of faint pain. Crane had tried some things on her she was sure were illegal in his time. In fact, there were probably some old Sleepy Hollow laws still in place that they had heedlessly and repeatedly broke with all the shameless things they tried.

His lack of a refractory period both impressed and terrified her. That man had two and a half centuries of continence to make up for and did he ever. She'd always wished to see him unrestrained, letting go of the tight rein he had on himself. After days of both witnessing and experiencing it, she quickly realized he'd kept more than she knew tightly bottled up. She loved seeing him so uninhibited but she hadn't slept for more than a few hours at a time and they'd already called in sick to work three days in a row, and that was not including the weekend. She needed to get back out into the real world before she lost herself in their own little bubble of paradise.

So she'd made her daring escape that afternoon while he was passed out on her bed, his bare ass in the air, faint scratch marks and love bites peppered all over his skin. She'd quietly showered and dressed before leaving the quiet house. She knew if she woke him, she would have never made it out the door. She left him a note explaining that she'd gone to have a late lunch with Jenny and hoped he wouldn't panic at her sudden absence.

She loved Crane and loved spending time with him but Jenny had texted her a couple of times in the past week, asking to see her. Given that she'd barely had enough energy to call in sick to work, she'd replied back with excuses of being busy and promises of later. After nearly a week, she knew she had put it off long enough so she invited her to lunch. She had to see her sister before she came over to the house and found her and Crane in a very compromising, possibly acrobatic, position.

"Earth to Abbie, anybody home?"

She shook herself from her daze, her impure thoughts immediately vanishing, and cleared her throat. "Hmm, yeah, what?"

Jenny smiled knowingly. "You're kinda spacey today."

Abbie inhaled deeply, nervously touching her forehead. "Sorry, I was just…my mind was somewhere else."

"Mm-hmm," her sister wordlessly teased.

Abbie didn't need to say anything in order for her to know what had gone down. Though her sister was a skilled profiler, she sure as hell didn't know how to hide a secret from her. She rolled her eyes playfully. "I was just asking how things were going, you know, now that y'all got a break."

Abbie touched the roof of her mouth with her tongue, nodding slowly. "Good. Things-things are good," she said as carefully as she could muster.

Jenny stared at her silently, waiting for her to elaborate. Abbie's brow furrowed when she realized that her sister expected her to continue. That lasted for a few seconds before the wrinkles smoothed out and she let out a quiet scoff. She looked down as a small smile pulled at the edges of her mouth. "Actually, they're great. Really, _really_ , great," she emphasized, failing to bite back a dopey grin.

Jenny arched her eyebrow suggestively. Picking up on her silent teasing, Abbie warily looked away. She could see right through her. It didn't matter how laid-back or indifferent she acted, she knew. She reluctantly gazed back at her tiredly, not wanting to prolong the inevitable.

Fortunately, Jenny simply looked at her as if impressed before nodding in approval. "Thought as much."

Still avoiding her gaze, she took a swig from her beer. She truly didn't want to get into details. The details would traumatize her for life. Hell, just thinking about them brought on her own overwhelming flashbacks. Abbie thickly swallowed her drink at the thought, gently setting the bottle down.

"So." She cleared her throat. "How've you been?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.

Jenny smirked, fully aware of what her sister was doing. "Clearly avoiding the colonial elephant in the room," she replied teasingly.

Of course, she was curious as to why Abbie had been avoiding her for the past week but that was a conversation for another time. There were more pressing issues she had to talk to her about.

Abbie gave her a shrewd look as she picked at the label on her beer. Though she was avoiding having that particular conversation about said elephants, she truly was curious as to how her sister had been. She hadn't seen or talked to Jenny in almost a month.

Ever since they defeated Pandora, Joe and Jenny had dedicated themselves to seeking out other supernatural artifacts August Corbin had kept shrouded in mystery. They'd been traveling across the globe finding answers while Abbie and Crane kept an eye out on Sleepy Hollow. After weeks of gathering artifacts and intel, it seemed that Jenny had finally found or learned of something of significance. She could see it in her eyes, or rather in the way she was avoiding eye contact. Her eyes shifted away nervously. Jenny never did that. She could tell this wasn't going to be good news.

Abbie tilted her head, attempting to get her to look at her. "I know that look, Jen. What's going on?"

She gave her a tight smile and looked down at the bottle of beer clasped between her hands. "You're getting too good that. Reading me. I'm gonna have to start wearing my ski mask around you," she said humorlessly as she took a lingering sip of her beer.

Abbie raised her eyebrow skeptically. She could tell something was bothering her. Ever since they reconnected and rebuilt the sisterly bond between them, hiding things from each other had become nearly impossible, especially for Jenny. She had a tell only she could pick up on. It was subtle but only noticeable to her. Abbie gave her a doubtful look, waiting patiently for her to spill the beans.

She looked up at her anxiously. Damn those profiling skills of hers. She couldn't get away with anything anymore. She had to tell her what happened. It had freaked the hell out of her, Joe was witness to that, but even then, she was reluctant to tell Abbie everything. She took a deep breath and sighed, pushing away the beer bottle she'd barely had the stomach to drink.

"The other night, I had a dream. I don't know what it meant but it wasn't good, Abs. Really wasn't good." She looked up at her guardedly.

Abbie nodded knowingly. She knew it. Something had happened to freak her sister out. It must've been something pretty significant to upset her so much. She steadily gazed at her. "What was it?" she asked.

Jenny looked up at her sister cautiously. She licked her lips nervously and looked down again at the translucent brown bottles before her. "I-I dreamt mama and Grace," she finally admitted in a soft voice.

Abbie nodded soberly. Dreaming of them only meant something was coming. She braced herself. "What they say?"

Jenny sighed deeply again. She weakly smiled at her sister and dejectedly explained, "They said…they said the end of days is coming."

Abbie searched her eyes for confirmation. "The Apocalypse? The one we supposedly avoided?"

She nodded resignedly. "Turns out we didn't throw it off track like we thought. Just prolonged the inevitable."

Abbie licked her suddenly dry lips. "They say when? Or why?"

She shook her head. "Nah. No, they just showed me."

Abbie blinked at her, not sure what to make of that. Usually, Abbie was the one who had those kind of dreams. It was unsettling to think that due to the lack of sleep she'd been getting lately, her ancestor and mom decided to reach out to Jenny instead. Why? She took a deep breath and cleared her thoughts. Now was not the time to think about that. The look on Jenny's face let her know that she was needed there, in that moment to give her sister support.

Jenny knit her brow. "I saw myself die," she said in a broken voice. She smiled painfully. "Not the way I expected but kind of poetic, really."

"Jen, that was just a dream, it wasn't real," she reassured her.

She shook her head, "No, this-this felt different, Abbie. I saw how it happened. I know where, how. I saw the light leave my eyes. I-I'd never felt so scared in my life," she whispered, smiling as her eyes filled with tears.

Abbie inhaled sharply. "It's not gonna happen." She shook her head vehemently. "I won't let it."

She gave her a sympathetic smile. Her death hadn't been the only one she'd witnessed. "You die, too. Both Witnesses, just like it said in Revelations." She looked down as a few tears escaped down her cheeks. She roughly brushed them away before looking back up at her sister. "None of us survive."

Abbie slowly sat back as she contemplated this new information. There was no reason to believe it was true but then again their was no reason to believe it wasn't. A premonition like that wouldn't happen unless there was some truth to it. In this case, though, it wasn't just a truth, it was their future.

Jenny could see her sister slowly process it and eventually come to terms with it with a firm nod. She could almost see the wall rise up in front of her as her sister braced herself with the truth. She was getting ready for war.

Abbie grabbed her beer and leaned back against her chair and sniffed, shrugging, "Then we'll die fighting." She took a long swig of her beer, choking back the now sour tasting liquid, setting the empty bottle down firmly.

Jenny studied her sister carefully. Abbie was in knight in shining armor mode. She was ready to fight and nothing was going to get to her. Normally, that wasn't a bad thing but mama and Grace had mentioned a weapon, something that would help them in their battle. The only problem was that the weapon's existence depended on Abbie's state of mind. Being a detached hard-ass wasn't going to do the trick this time around. She needed to get her to realize that.

"They did say something about a ring," she said abruptly, hoping it made more sense to her sister than it did to her.

Abbie's gaze shot up. She frowned. Nobody but her and Crane knew about the ring. It seemed nearly impossible for anybody else to know about it but she lived in a world of impossibilities. "What about it?" she asked cagily.

"They said it'll protect you until the time comes. But that isn't really a ring, at least that's what they told me. Does that mean anything to you?"

She looked away and licked the corner of her mouth. She hadn't told Jenny everything about what had happened to her in hell. She didn't want to worry her. It seemed like that wasn't an option anymore. She blinked slowly, not lifting her gaze.

"It showed up when I walked into Pandora's tree with the shard. You saw the shard, how it was seconds away from going nuclear. Then something happened 'cause one second I'm holding this bomb in my hands and the next I'm perfectly fine, no shard. Instead, I look down and there's this ring. I thought it was just part of the whole going to hell experience. I didn't think it was real. But then it showed up again, helped me escape to the catacombs."

Jenny nodded with her brow furrowed. Abbie hadn't shared any details of that experience but it sounded like this supposed ring had saved her when she needed it the most. It really was a weapon of sorts but apparently only for her and only when she was at her most vulnerable.

"You know, come to think of it, it appeared again when we were rebuilding Pandora's box. It kept us from being sucked into it. It's like a mirage or something because it's there and glowing one second and the next, it's gone," she continued explaining, her eyes shifting rapidly as she processed what all of it meant.

Jenny nodded in understanding. It made sense. Everything Grace and mama had told her was starting to make actual, logical sense. This ring or weapon or whatever they'd end up calling it wasn't a mirage. She pondered aloud, "That's because it's not a ring, Abbie. It's a manifestation of your powers." She inhaled in surprise at her own revelation.

Unfortunately, her sister didn't seem as impressed. Abbie raised her eyebrow skeptically. "Powers?"

She nodded fervidly. "That's what Grace said. She said it was power bestowed upon you by God himself."

Abbie blinked in disbelief, shifting in her seat. None of it made sense. How could she have powers? She didn't feel any different. _No, no, this was impossible_ , she thought shaking her head. This was getting to be too unbelievable. It felt like an excerpt from some X-Men movie and she was starting to feel like some kind of a mutant. "No. That-that can't be possible. It doesn't make any sense. How? Why now?"

"Well, it kind of does make sense. It is foretold in the Book of Revelations that you guys would breathe fire and go all Moses in Egypt on people. I mean, if the horseman were real, then why not Witness powers?"

"That still doesn't make any sense. Last I remember, there were two Witnesses. And as far as I know, one of us hasn't sprouted their magic wings yet." She blinked at her expectantly.

Jenny shrugged. "Or maybe you guys need to spend more time cultivating them?"

Abbie considered her sister's words. Jenny could be right. In the past, the ring only showed up when she needed it the most. It could be that these supposed Witness powers only show up in the direst of circumstances.

"How does that work? How do we cultivate them?" she pondered aloud, wondering if they would have to put themselves in life or death situations to make them appear. If so, that could really make things difficult.

"You have to purify your souls," Jenny said softly, nodding in understanding.

Abbie scoffed. "I have to do what now?"

She blinked at her. "That's what mama said. The powers will come when you purify your soul."

Abbie stared at her, her expression one of incredulity. Tempted to roll her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all, she chose to close them instead. Though it sounded unecessarily dramatic, she knew Jenny was probably right. Sooner or later they would end up finding something about it in some book or etched into some rock. She may as well believe it now.

"And how do I do that exactly?" she asked reluctantly, unsure of if she really wanted to know the answer.

Jenny gazed at her sister, a sudden realization coming to her. If she'd learned anything in all her travels, she knew purify didn't always mean to make human sacrifices or dunk yourself into a vat of holy water. Sometimes it just meant to get rid of the thing that held you down. In Abbie's case, the burden was obvious. "Forgive yourself," she said sagely.

She gave her a questioning look. "Forgive myself? For what?"

Jenny sighed and gently smiled. She reached across the table and held out her hand. Abbie, puzzled by her sister's sudden soft demeanor, gripped it tightly.

Jenny gazed at her intensely, wanting to ensure that her sister knew she was being sincere. "Abs, I know you've always felt responsible for me, especially after what happened to us as kids. I know you carry that guilt with you. It's what's made you risk your life all these years without a second thought as to how it would affect you."

She shook her head in denial. "No, no, Jen. You're my sister, my family. Hell, the only family I have left. That's what we do. It's what I'm supposed to do."

"But you don't have to. I'm a big girl. I can handle things on my own."

She gave her an admonishing look. "I know that. I know you can take care of yourself but that's not gonna stop me from looking out for you."

Jenny reached out across the table for her other hand. They gripped each other tightly, reminiscent of when they were kids. "Abbie, we're in this together. I joined this fight because I wanted to. We have each other's backs but in the end, it's all of us against them. We'll all have to make sacrifices, not just you."

She shook her head as she looked down at their clasped hands, tears stinging her eyes. "I know. I know and I get that. But I can't just stand by and see you get hurt. Or worse," she swallowed thickly, not wanting to imagine her worst nightmare coming true.

"You won't be standing by. We're in this together, Abs. We are now and we will be til the end."

"I don't...I don't know if I can do that," she said faintly, fear beginning to clutch at her heart. Fear of letting go, fear of losing, fear of letting Jenny down again, it all swarmed in her mind, already haunting her thoughts.

And, yet, she knew Jenny was right. She couldn't control the outcome of all this. She couldn't guarantee that they'd all make it out alive this time. Nothing she could possibly say, or do, or prepare could change that uncertainty. It shook her to her very core.

"Abbie, look at me." The two sisters stared into each other's eyes. Fear and love flowed between them. "If there's anything this life has taught me, it's that we have to find happiness where we can and embrace the hell out of it. You need to live your life, let your walls down, and see what's in front of you." She held her gaze steadily. "You deserve to be happy, Abs, more than anybody I know. For once in your life, don't let anything or anybody, not even me, get in the way of that."

Abbie nodded silently, tears rolling down her cheeks. Jenny was right. She was still holding on to the idea that she didn't deserve to be happy, that she wasn't worthy of love. All the bad shit she had done continued to remind her that everything good in her life would be fleeting, that one day it would all disappear and that she deserved that abandonment. Every time she forgot that, guilt would snake its way back in, tempering her moment of happiness, prompting her to keep her guard up. She needed to move past it. She needed to forgive herself.

Jenny released her hands and handed her sister a clean napkin. "You have to promise me something," she said as she took the napkin.

Abbie nodded, wiping away the tears from her damp cheeks. She would do anything for her sister. She'd keep her promise.

"Stop feeling guilty about me. Stop sacrificing yourself for me. There isn't any way I'm going to love you more than I what I do now. I can't forgive you for what you did because I already have. It's time for you to forgive yourself and move on. Promise me you will."

Abbie sighed shakily. It was a tall order but it's what her sister wanted and if she were being honest with herself, it's what she wanted, too. She would do this, for the both of them.

She determinedly nodded at her sister, "I will. I promise."

"Good," she said, adding a groundless threat for good measure, "You better."

Abbie smiled widely, appreciative of her sister's ability to make the situation lighthearted again. She loved her so much. She'd come a long way since they were kids. It amazed her to see Jenny come into her own. "God, when did you get so smart?" she mused.

Her sister shrugged. "I think it might run in the family."

She laughed. "Yeah? I think you might be right."

They nodded, smiles on their faces, their hearts finally unburdened. They took in the moment. The quiet noises of the bar in the background, the people ignorant to the sacrifices the two sisters had made to keep them alive, the normality of the moment.

Jenny glanced at her sister, noticing immediately how unburdened she appeared. It was as if the strain of her guilt that had weighed her down was slowly dissipating. It made her happy to see her sister enjoy a genuine moment of being carefree. She hoped it would last. She cleared her throat. "So we good?"

Abbie gazed back at her sister, smiling gently. She sighed contently. "Yeah, we will be," she reassured her.

The two sisters smiled at each other, finally forgiving their past and accepting each other's uncertain fate.

* * *

Abbie unlocked the door to her house and quietly walked in. Crane was cooking up something in the kitchen, the intro to Duke Ellington's 'In a Sentimental Mood' blasting on the speakers. She smiled, biting her lip as Crane swayed and hummed in front of the stove. He looked clean and fresh with his lightly damp, waved, short tresses and dressed in his loose fitting yoga gear, a definite change from the colonial outfit he wore like a security blanket.

She liked him looking this way. With his shirt untucked and sporting an apron, he looked blissful and relaxed. Crane, her guy. He was starting to look like a modern 21st century man. She bit her lip. She never thought she'd see that day.

They'd come a long way since that cold, heartbreaking night they met. She'd just lost the man who was like a father to her and he'd just woken up to his entire world gone. Now they were here, sharing a home, sharing a fate, and sharing in each other's unconditional love. It was strange how life had its way of balancing itself out. Loss had given way to discovery which had given way to a bond so deep and so strong, even their ancestors had it carved into stone.

She loved him so much her heart hurt with the emotion, her stomach would flutter in anticipation every time she laid eyes on him. Every time he'd talk, she'd find herself in a trance, soothed by his voice and passion. Even during his rants, she couldn't help but smirk at his snide remarks. She'd never loved a man as much as she did him. It was impossible to imagine it any other way, especially after the past few days of repeatedly demonstrating it to each other.

Shivers ran up her back thinking about all the different ways he'd taken her, marked her with his lips and tongue. Those fingers on her skin, inside her, stroking, rubbing, sending her to the edge of sanity and back. God, he was good. Where he'd learned it was beyond her but she was ever so grateful. She loved his passion, his curiosity, his way of being, the way he looked, the way he talked; she loved him entirely.

He was her addiction and she couldn't wait to get another hit.

She quietly padded into the kitchen and walked up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his back, swaying along with him. She turned her nose to shirt, deeply inhaling his scent. Laundry soap, a hint of body soap, and that warm musky scent that was unmistakably him filled her senses. She parted her lips with a sensual sigh, the soft fabric of his shirt dragging across her lips. He raised an eyebrow and smiled knowingly as he continued stirring the pot of cooking food, his sway unbroken.

"Smells good," she murmured throatily, softly placing kisses on the back of his shirt, her fingertips rubbing gently against the soft fabric covering his firm torso.

"Mmm," he murmured in return, slowly losing himself in the music and her caresses.

"Almost done?" she asked in a husky voice as she snuck her hands under his untucked shirt, gently scraping her nails against his warm skin.

He exhaled, his eyelids fluttering from the sensations her touch was provoking. His Adam's apple bobbed as he tightened his grip on the spoon. He turned his head slightly.

"Always ready for you, treasure," he said in a low voice, as his free hand reached behind him, his palm cupping her swaying hip.

She pulled out her hands from underneath his shirt and maneuvered him to turn toward her. He released the spoon and followed her bidding. She laid her palms flat against his stomach, dragging them down his firm muscles. Her fingers dancing along the outline of top of his low slung pants. She tilted her head and gazed up at him seductively. "Good, 'cause I'm hungry now."

He studied every inch of her face. He knew what she wanted. Reaching behind him, he turned off the stove knowing full well dinner would be delayed.

He licked his lips, desperation in his eyes. "Abbie…," he said in a strangled voice.

"It's Lieutenant, Captain," she corrected him firmly.

He let out a choked whimper.

She smiled as she pulled him down for a passionate kiss.

* * *

 _Hours later in her bed…_

"I'm hungry."

The food was still on the stove, ready but cold and untouched. They'd forgone the niceties of dinner and gone straight to dessert.

"Mmm, I shall warm our supper," he mumbled against her hair, pulling her naked body closer to his, wrapping himself around her. "Posthaste..."

Rolling her eyes at his blatant lie, she sighed. "You know what I'm really craving right now?" she said thoughtfully.

He responded with a noncommittal grunt.

"Jellybeans."

He smiled with his eyes closed. Odd craving but one he'd been hoping she'd have soon. Luckily, he was prepared.

He rolled over and stretched out with a loud yawn. "Very well, I shall fetch your beans of jelly goodness," he replied, careful to hid the glee in his voice. He planted a quick kiss on her shoulder. "One moment." He eagerly hopped out of bed naked, forgoing any attempt at modesty.

She sleepily blinked at him with her head resting on the pillow. A smile spread across her face as she watched his naked ass prance down the stairs to the kitchen. She closed her eyes and let out a blissful sigh.

This was perfect. She'd never felt so guilt-free, so happy. After her conversation with Jenny, she felt lighter, happier. Sex with Crane was just the cherry on the top. Life was good and she was going to enjoy every second of it.

A minute later she heard him thunder back upstairs. She could tell he was excited by the way he reined himself in before padding quietly into the room. The bed shifted as he pulled her into his arms once more and rested something in front of her. She opened her eyes to a clear glass jar filled to the brim with her favorite jellybeans. The jar had a red bow wrapped around the top and a small label with the words "Abbie's Jellybeans" written in flawless calligraphy.

"Oh, wow" she gasped softly with her eyes wide, carefully taking the jar into her hands, "Crane, it's-this is beautiful."

He nodded proudly, laying a quick peck on her shoulder once again. "I owed you a replacement for the ones I consumed in your absence."

Her fingertips admired the evident effort he'd put into the gift. "You decorate this yourself?"

"Well, I may have stolen a few ideas from those who have pinned their remarkably inspired interests online."

She giggled, glancing at him out of her peripheral. "You mean Pinterest?"

"Mmm, our elderly neighbor, Ms. Irene, was so gracious in recommending it whilst I was tending to our herb garden. Extraordinary website. I posted a picture of your jar and received numerous saved and liked pins, along with a few flattering comments."

She smiled as she continued admiring the jar. "Wow, Ichabod Crane, avid Pinterest user. Who could've foretold that?"

He smiled and buried his face in her neck. She giggled quietly, pensively brushed her fingertips over the smooth surface of the jar, her smile faltering.

Noticing her change in mood immediately, he brushed her hair from her face. "Everything okay?"

She sighed heavily and tried to give him a reassuring smile. Not easily dissuaded, he blinked at her expectantly.

Reluctantly, she rolled over to face him, covering herself with the covers but never releasing her grip of her jar. He positioned himself on his side and reached over to tuck her hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek soothingly. "What is it?"

She sighed. She couldn't avoid this conversation any longer. "I talked to Jenny today," she admitted quietly.

He nodded encouragingly.

"She had a dream about mama and Grace Dixon."

He blinked soberly, comprehending the significance of her words. His eyebrows lifted in understanding. "I see. Not a good dream, I presume?"

She exhaled tiredly, wishing she didn't have to be the bearer of bad news. "Our mission isn't over," she revealed tentatively.

He gave her a gentle smile, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. "Given our brief respite, I suppose it would remain presumptuous of us to assume the continuance of such good fortune."

She rested her hand over his, closing her eyes. "They told her we haven't escaped the Apocalypse. It's still happening."

He stared at her solemnly, his fingers suspended on her cheek. He blinked, his eyes downcast as he processed what she had just revealed to him.

"She saw herself die. She saw us die just like it was foretold." She opened her eyes to observe his reaction.

He sighed resignedly. He had long ago come to terms with the certainty that the day he had entered this world, a sure death awaited him. His life was no longer his. It was solely an instrument in the war against evil. He'd accepted it yet it was not something that he enjoyed contemplating. To admit to it would be to admit to not only his, but Abbie's imminent demise. That truth was far more painful to accept than his own.

He exhaled. "The ultimate sacrifice. The destiny we were meant to fulfill. 'Tis difficult to accept the cruel fate that awaits us but this is our purpose, Lieutenant. This is why were chosen for this mission," he reminded her, hoping she was aware of this truth and not in denial of it as he was.

She gripped his hand, lowering it from her face. "I get that but she's my sister, Crane. How can I just accept the fact that I'm not going to save her?"

He smiled sadly. "That is a fate you were meant to accept whether as a Witness or simply as her sister. Death is inevitable and unpredictable. Not just for us but for all that breathes life. There is nothing you nor I can do to control or change that certainty."

"I'm just not ready. I don't want her to die. Or you," she stopped, reaching out to lightly touch the gnarled scar on his chest. She traced it and softly whispered, her voice cracking, "I…I don't want to die." Tears silently streamed down her nose onto the pillow below her as she looked at Crane with fear in her eyes as she tightly gripped the glass jar against her.

He inhaled sharply and gathered her into his arms. He'd heard those words more times than he cared to remember from the lips of his dying soldiers but this was different. Fear and pain gripped his heart so tightly, terror filled his entire being. His mortality was a mere afterthought in comparison to hers. She rested her forehead on his chest as her body trembled. If this was the fate they were meant to face then so be it but he would be the first to draw his last breath. She would not die on his watch. He susurrated calming words of love and support as she quietly sobbed in his soothing arms.

Once her sniffles had died down and her breathing returned to normal, Ichabod slipped out of bed and quickly returned with a box of tissues. After her tears and runny nose had been wiped away, he held her against his chest, resting his lips against her hair consolingly.

She sniffed. "Sorry, I-I didn't realize how much I was keeping in until now."

"There's no need to apologize for your tears. You have a right to shed as many as you wish."

"I'll be fine, for now."

He nodded in understanding, kissing her forehead.

She chuckled to lighten the mood and looked down at the jar she'd been keeping in a vice grip, refusing to let it go. "On a lighter note, I think I found a new security blanket," she joked.

He smiled gently at her. "We can enjoy those at another time, if you prefer."

"No way," she said in outrage, sniffing back the last of her tears, immediately getting to work on unscrewing the top. "I said I wanted jellybeans so I'm gonna have me some jellybeans."

Once she'd opened the jar, she picked one red ones off the top and popped it into her mouth. Her face immediately turned into one of bliss. "Oh, cherry, my favorite."

Ichabod smiled in relief. "I chose the flavors you appeared partial to, however, I included a handful of assorted ones at the bottom of the jar in the event that you desired an unexpected flavor."

Her heart melted. "Aw, Crane, this is the sweetest thing anybody's ever done for me. Literally," she couldn't help but add.

Her hand was small enough to fit inside the jar so she began digging around to find one of the assorted ones at the bottom. Suddenly, her fingers came across something not quite jellybean shaped. Her brow furrowed. She squished it between her fingertips. _No, not a jellybean._ She pinched the foreign object and slowly pulled it out of the jar, careful to not spill any jellybeans. Her lips parted in disbelief.

A ring.

She looked at Crane in shock. He smiled at her as he slipped away from her embrace, taking his pillow with him. He covered his nudity as much as he could and walked to her side of the bed, kneeling down on one knee. He took the jar of jellybeans and placed it on the nightstand, taking her free hand in his.

"Admittedly, this is not how I envisioned this proposal transpiring, it is as it was meant to be. Pardoning my indecent state of undress, I must make an inquiry, if you would be so gracious in allowing it."

She bit back a smile and nodded. He took a steadying breath and gazed into her eyes ardently. He cleared his throat and began.

"I emerged in your world three years ago, an antiquated stranger to all its beauty and possibility. In a world of billions, against all odds, we found each other. I, a soldier of George Washington's army. You, a lieutenant on the path to achieving her most desired dream. Together we undertook the mantel of Witnesses and chose to bear this destiny together. Despite my capricious demands that often put you in difficult or dangerous positions, you faithfully continued by my side. Despite heedless cruelty on my part, you forgave me and charitably accepted me once again into your world. You opened my eyes to this wondrous life. Along the way, I realized it is a life squandered if it is a life without you."

He gazed at her lovingly as tears began falling down her cheeks.

"Though I've experienced the extraordinary, I am but an ordinary man. I am flawed but I've found redemption in your love. You are my closest friend, my partner, my lieutenant, my lover, and my very heart. You are truly my better half. As I kneel before you, I offer you my heart, my mind, my soul, and my entire being. In return, I humbly ask for your hand in marriage."

Abbie bit her lip as he gently took the ring from her hand and gave her a nervous gaze.

"Grace Abigail Mills, will you marry me?"

She nodded wordlessly, sniveling, before she choked out, "Yeah, yes. Of course, of course I'll marry you."

His face lit up as he placed the ring upon her finger, his hands trembling. She threw herself into his arms, burying her now damp face into his bare shoulder. He embraced her tightly as he buried his face in her neck, weeping for their blissful yet uncertain future.

After a few moments, he returned them to her bed. He gently laid her down and demonstrated all the love he had in his heart for her. She accepted it and returned it with just as much passion.

Entwined in each other's arms, in the afterglow of their lovemaking, a dim glimmering appeared on their ring fingers. Ichabod looked upon it with astonishment. Abbie gazed at it in acceptance.

"What-what is this?" he whispered entranced.

She tilted her head, as she calmly gazed at it. "Evidence of our purified souls."

He gave her a confused look.

She smiled serenely at him. "Turns out being a Witness comes with superpowers," she said with a gentle smile.

He reached out to her, resting his palm against hers experimentally. The glow from their ring fingers spread throughout their hands and up their arms until their entire bodies gave off a soft luminosity. Crane gazed at their hands then back at her in wonder. She smiled assuredly at him.

He looked into her eyes questioningly. "What does this mean?"

Remembering Jenny's dream and what was foretold in the Bible, she realized the hard part was still ahead of them. The sudden appearance of the miraculous just meant something just as unbelievably evil was just around the corner. Something they wouldn't survive.

She sighed sadly. "It means this is where we begin and where we end."

He knit his brow.

She smiled gently, clasping their fingers together. She gazed at their hands as the light dimmed until it finally disappeared. She released their hands and reached out to cup his cheek. She scoot closer to him and rested her forehead against his. Sensing her trepidation, he shakily inhaled and reached up to kiss her forehead. He pulled her tightly against him.

She rested her cheek on his chest, the melodious beating of his heart filling her senses. She hugged him tighter, a tremor of dread clutching her heart. Pushing the morbid thoughts away, she breathed in his scent. If their days were counted, she wouldn't dwell on the inevitable. She would savor each moment like her last. She would love until she couldn't love anymore.

She murmured against his chest, "All this means, Crane, is that we'll have to figure it out. Like we always do."

He nodded slowly in agreement, wonder still glittering in his gaze. "Together," he said resolutely, holding her tighter.

She nodded fearlessly.

"Together."

 **The End**

* * *

 ** _Welp, that's that. Hope you enjoyed it!_**

 ** _Thank you to the one wonderfully kind nonny who left beautiful words of love on the previous two very long, semi-decent chapters I wrote. You don't know how much it means to me that you've stayed with this story to the end._**

 ** _I love Ichabbie. I always will. However, the lack of feedback to this story has me feeling like I need to make better use of my free time. I don't have a lot of it and I'd prefer spending it on something others and myself can find joy in. I do not want to continue pouring my soul into writing a story that people aren't interested in anymore._**

 ** _And so I've come to the decision to end this story here. I know I said an epilogue but to be perfectly honest, I don't know if there is an audience left for it. However, it's always possible that I may be wrong. I like to live in denial. I am an Ichabbie writer after all. :)_**

 ** _Thank you to those of you who've supported this story and my writing for the past year. It's been a treat to share in this journey with you. I can honestly say that you've helped me grow. I know there is always room for improvement and so I shall do my best to do so._**

 ** _Okay, this is it. God, this is strange. I've never had to end a multi-chapter fic before. Alright, thanks again for everything and I sincerely hope to hear from you. I love you all very much!_**

 ** _Long Live Ichabbie!_**

 ** _Love,_**

 ** _semul_**


	21. Chapter 21

**Epilogue**

 _Early 2015 in a small Scottish town…_

The rain pattered against the roof of the quiet Scottish pub. Ichabod Crane cursed as he clumsily burst into the establishment, soaking wet. The walk from his family's crypt to the nearest dry place had turned out to be a short but very wet journey. Luckily, he had the presence of mind to wear his coat today. He protectively gripped the ancient stone against his shivering body, hidden beneath his sodden wool coat.

He coldly examined the inside of the pub. A few patrons quietly stared at him, gently swaying in their seats from their inebriation. Discreetly, he shook the water from his wool coat and wiped the short, wet pieces of his hair from his face. He stiffly walked to the empty bar stools, the sound of his boots reverberating throughout the quiet establishment.

Reverently, he set the ancient tablet on the bar before carefully removing his soaked coat, placing it on the back of his chair, and sitting down. Awaiting the absentee bartender, Ichabod quickly became consumed by his conflicted thoughts, unconsciously tracing the tablet etchings with his finger.

After nearly a year of wandering the Scottish countryside, dependent on the kindness of strangers and the dwindling money he'd saved up from performing odd jobs, he was faced with a predicament. _It was this cursed tablet,_ he thought in irritation. He'd come upon it during his journey to find his long-forgotten family crypt. It had taken him nearly a month to clearly decipher it and now that its message was evident, his mind was at battle with his awakened heart.

"What can I get ye?" The voice of the bartender startling him from his thoughts.

Considering the unproductive day he'd just endured and the fact that he was sitting in layers of cold, wet clothes, he ordered the first thing that came to mind. "A pint of your best, thank you."

The bartender acknowledged the order and turned to pour his drink.

Quietly clearing his throat, Ichabod self-consciously straightened his back before resting his arms on the bar. Though he refused to conform to certain societal expectations, he hated drawing attention to himself. He preferred anonymity, he'd grown accustomed to it in the past few months. He awkwardly tucked his short hair behind his ears as he glanced out of the corner of his eye. The other patrons had gone back to slurring their way through nonsensical heavy Scottish accents, their attention no longer on him. He let out a sigh of relief.

If she were here, her very presence would command all these men's attention. Her smile, her perfectly sculpted body, her melodic voice... _stop,_ he scolded himself, _enough_. She wasn't here. As much as his heart longed for her to glide through that door and teasingly utter his name, she wouldn't. He secured their fate the moment he ran off without a word.

Pieces of hair escaped once again and fell across his eyes. He irritably tucked it behind his ear again. He was beginning to regret his hasty, self-inflicted haircut. He'd made the cut impulsively, too blinded by grief to pay any mind to his actions. It was far shorter months ago but the length had begun to unnerve him so he began growing it out once again. He'd worn it in a longer style for as long as he could remember. He needed to return to some semblance of normalcy now that he'd overcome his grieving.

It was at an awkward phase, too long to stay out of his eyes, too short to tie it back. He would have to contend with it for now. Though, for some odd reason, he'd begun to consider blonde highlights. A suppressed memory of a moment in his burial cave flashed before him only to fade away just as quickly.

Moments of random recollections had begun to occur with frequency. Thoughts of her smile, thoughts of her lips near his, vows he'd abandoned in the pursuit of closure, filled his mind. The thoughts would haunt him at odd moments of the day and throughout his dreams at night but they didn't linger. That is until recently.

"Here's ye pint."

Ichabod blinked from his haze as the effervescent bubbles floated to the top of his cold, golden brew, a glorious foam spilling over the blunt lip of the mug. He gratefully paid for his drink and tentatively swigged back a giant gulp of the bitter ale. The cold liquid slid down his throat with a refreshing fizz, instantly putting him at ease. He instinctively wiped the foam from his beard with his coat sleeve, a distant memory stirred an odd tug at his heart. _'I can't with you. Come here.'_

He inhaled shakily and set the beer down, looking down at the granular tablet. He gently caressed the Sumerian words etched into the ancient stone. Of course, reading a foretelling of their bond would dredge up memories of her. It was simply that. Nothing more.

It had nothing to do with the kiss she almost bestowed upon him whilst he was in a drunken stupor. Nothing to do with the ancient tablet that foretold that their souls were literally destined to be together. _No, of course not,_ he attempted to convince himself. He didn't yearn to know where she was at that very moment or wonder how she fared. His heart didn't desperately flip within his chest in the hope that he would one day hear her voice again. He didn't miss her to the point of physical pain. He wasn't in denial.

"Ye alright then?"

Ichabod looked up, relaxing the fist he was unaware he had clenched. "Pardon?"

The bartender smiled knowingly at him. "There is no mistaking that look upon a man's face."

He blinked in confusion. "Look? What...look?" he asked unconvincingly.

The bartender shook his head with a knowing smirk, changing the topic. "Yer not from around here, are ye? Visiting or finding yer way home?"

He furrowed his brow. Uncertainty filled his heart. His purpose had once been clear but it became muddled in the time he'd maintained his isolation. Loneliness began to set in. Which was why after months of keeping to himself, Ichabod felt inspired, or rather at ease, enough to speak his truth to this seemingly pleasant stranger.

He sighed with the shake of his head. "I…I don't know," he said truthfully.

The bartender nodded thoughtfully. "Well, how long have ye been here?"

He let out a breath of air, quickly calculating the length of his extended stay. "Nine months. Nearly nine months," he clarified.

"Then yer visiting. Only visitors keep track of the time."

He gave the bartender a side smile. "I suppose you may be right."

"Of course, I am," he replied confidently. "So why are ye here? Is it to do with a lass?"

Taken aback by the bartender's plain-spoken yet accurate assumption, he hesitantly replied, hoping to convince him of his denial, "Not-not exactly." He shifted in his seat nervously.

The bartender smirked, clearly doubtful of his assertion. Though he gave him no room for argument as he excused himself to attend to his other patrons.

Ichabod's brow furrowed as he followed him with his gaze. _Was it truly that obvious?_ Were his thoughts truly that decipherable? He drank his ale unthinkingly as his mind returned to the tablet. It made absolutely no sense. He and Abbie were partners, friends. How could they be soulmates? Had he translated it wrong?

"Nine months seems a specific amount of time, if ye know what I mean?"

Ichabod quickly glanced up at the bartender he hadn't noticed had returned to pour him another drink. He shifted once again uncomfortably. He didn't appreciate the insinuation. He glared at him distrustfully as he took the last swig of his beer.

The bartender sensing his indignation, set a new mug of beer in front of him and raised his hands in surrender. "I dinnae mean to pry."

He impulsively shook the damp hair out of his eyes. "'Tis most certainly not that," he said flatly, his fingers once again drawn to the markings on the tablet.

The bartender watched as Ichabod gently touched the ancient stone. "What is it then, if ye dinnae mind me asking?"

He traced the single word that had him questioning himself. "Soulmates," escaped his mouth before he realized it.

He raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. "Ah, soulmates, eh? Aye, that's a fine idea. Someone out there meant just for ye. True love and all that."

Ichabod gave him a cold look. When he thought of soulmates, he did not think of true love. Love was far too easily discarded, capable of being forgotten. Just the mere mention of true love immediately turned his thoughts to the betrayal of his wife. They shared what he thought was true love yet they were never soulmates. In fact, they could not have been more ill-suited for each other. Their bond had been weaker than they'd led themselves to believe.

Moreover, the natural, unconditional love of a soulmate was an invention of man attempting to deny his loneliness. It simply did not – could not – exist. It was as they said nowadays, too good to be true. Soulmates could only be the strongest of bonds, unspoiled by the fragility of love.

He sniffed in derision at the bartender's claim. "Groundless conjecture."

He shrugged subtly. "I dinnae ken about that but there's always stories saying otherwise."

He knit his brow. In his experience, stories, even dismissible folk tales, were based in truth. If legends existed and had attached themselves to this impossible idea, he had to hear them. Perhaps a logical explanation could be drawn from these tales. His curiosity now intrigued, he asked inquiringly, "Stories?"

"Aye, stories. Such as the one about the two Scottish warriors."

Sensing rubbish yet weakened by curiosity, he asked skeptically, "Scottish warriors?"

"Ay, I can tell it to ye, if you like."

Ichabod stared at him warily before he nodded in reluctant acceptance.

The bartender smiled. He leaned against the bar, leaning forward conspiratorially. "There was once two Scottish warriors. One came from a great and fierce clan. The other from a kind and peaceful clan. These two warriors dinnae know it but they held a powerful connection to each other."

Crane quietly sipped his beer as he listened attentively.

"It was said that God himself had created a soul and ripped it in half. He'd placed each half within a warrior and put them on earth. They were born to different clans yet destined to find one another. He called them soulmates."

The bartender nodded for effect, Ichabod mirrored his actions, already too engrossed in the story to notice. The man continued with a subtle smirk. "Despite the odds, despite everything that had been working against them, they found each other. They met and it was love at first sight. But then a great war broke out between their clans. They lost each other. And God, being a vengeful, almighty god, saw this as an act of betrayal. These ungrateful warriors had refused a gift from God himself. As punishment, he denied their reunion for all eternity."

Ichabod studied his gaze intensely, precariously sipping at his near empty beer. When the bartender stared back silently, Ichabod nodded, urging him to finish the story.

The bartender smiled at his ability to reel in his customer with his story. "That is until one day, God was distracted. The two warriors sought each other out in hopes of a reunion. Yet, the instant their bodies touched, they fell lifeless to the ground. God had not only denied their reunion but cursed it as well."

Ichabod narrowed his eyes. Aside from having a gravely unsatisfying ending, the story was blatant hogwash, a tale meant to inspire money from a patron's pocket. It was obvious. In all his years of study, he had never heard such utter nonsense. He gulped down the rest of his beer as the bartender set down another in front of him.

"So the moral of the tale, is if you ever want to get a lass off your back, tell her this story." The bartender laughed heartily as Ichabod glared at him unamused.

The bartender wiped tears from the corner of his eyes, tickled by his dramatic tale. "Apologies, the last bit was joke but the story's something of a local legend. Or as legendary as a story about two soulmates can get."

Ichabod sighed irritably. Though it had been an unlikely story, he couldn't help but remark on the unlikely tale. "She was better suited without him."

The bartender looked at him questioningly. "What's that now?"

"The girl. She could've lived a long and healthy life had he stayed away," he explained edgily.

The bartender tilted his head thoughtfully. "Ye know, there is a missing piece to the story that doesn't often get told."

Ichabod glanced up at him precariously.

"They were meant to die on that very day, regardless of if it was in each other's arms or not. It was the price they had to pay for having found true love in an impossible world."

A thought of Katrina pervaded his mind. Bitterly, he snapped, "The amusement of a cruel god."

The bartender smiled. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you have yet to recognize the value of finding yer missing piece."

Ichabod narrowed his eyes questioningly.

"What is yer name, if ye don't mind me asking?"

Reluctantly, he told him, not seeing the harm in humoring the harmless barkeep. "Ichabod."

"Ichabod, have ye ever loved somebody?"

He scoffed, deeply bothered by the fact that it was not apparent to this stranger. "Of course, I was married."

"Ah, marriage doesn't signify love, my friend. I mean _real_ love. The kind that never fades, that always stays true."

He carefully pondered the question. He couldn't say that of Katrina, considering the rupture their love had endured. He couldn't say that of his parents as they had disowned him when he renounced his allegiance to the crown. His family, the woman he'd exchanged vows with had never expressed that kind of devotion to him. They had been conditional, easily dissuaded in their love for him. His stomach coiled in shame.

Sensing his growing insecurity, the bartender quickly asked, "What do ye do for a living?"

"I-I am, _was_ , a history consultant for the Sleepy Hollow Police Department back in the states."

"Mmm, and did ye ever work closely with someone. A partner perhaps?"

He swallowed thickly, this interrogation was quickly turning down a path of which he desired to steer clear. He cast his gaze to the tablet in front of him. "Yes. She is, _was_ , my…partner."

The bartender continued, "Alright, a soulmate is like a partner."

"How so?"

"A soulmate is someone who makes ye more than what ye are simply by being by yer side. They allow ye to discover the importance of giving, of being generous, of being selfless, and of sacrifice. Not only do they make ye more, ye inspire them to be more as well. 'Tis a delicate balance of seeking and giving love, Ichabod. In truth, a soulmate is meant to become yer better half and ye theirs. 'Tis a love worth any fate."

The two men stared at each other, the impact of his wise words settling between them. After a moment, the bartender shrugged casually as he continued wiping down the bar. "But that's just the opinion of this rumbegging bartender. What do I know?"

Suddenly, a clear image of Abbie filled Ichabod's senses. He could see her, hear her, even smell her. A deep ache in his heart, clenched inside his chest. He inhaled shakily.

The bartender paused as he noticed his patron come to a realization. He asked, "Are ye alright? Ye got a faraway look in yer eye."

Ichabod nodded his head in consternation and rested his hand possessively over the tablet.

The bartender nodded at the tablet. "Looks like those scribbles mean something to ye."

Ichabod looked at the tablet under his hand and admitted, "'Tis my story. My fate."

The bartender raised an eyebrow. "Looks old, unlike yerself."

Ichabod responded, "You'd be surprised."

"Is it a good one at least?"

He looked up at him in uncertainty. "What?"

"Yer fate? Is it a good one?"

He blinked waveringly. "I-I'm not sure."

The bartender stopped and frowned at him. "Then why the hell are ye here?"

Ichabod looked at him questioningly.

"You're alone, in a rundown pub, in the middle of Scotland, on a shite of a day, stroking a piece of old stone, talking to me. How the hell are ye going to find out if yer fate is any good if ye aren't out there figuring it out?"

Ichabod inhaled carefully as he pondered why he hadn't gone home. Yes, he'd made a mistake but it was not too late. He could amend it. He could win back Abbie's trust and fight alongside her to defeat the evil that would surely come. They were destined to remain at each other's side. And even if she wanted nothing to do with him, he would have to satisfy himself with what she was willing to bestow upon him.

He nodded at the bartender, collected the tablet, gulped down the rest of his drink, and nodded again. He had to return home. He had to allow destiny a chance.

"Thank you. Your wise words have aided me in realizing where I am truly needed." He hastily stood from the stool, straightening his clothes. "The name is Crane, Ichabod Crane, at your service." He bowed slightly.

The bartender smiled, scratching his head, and said, "Fate, eh? I don't suppose my name's in there is it?"

Ichabod furrowed his brow as he pulled on his sodden coat.

"The name is Isaiah, Isaiah Crane. Perhaps we're family?"

He froze, blinking at the notion that this man could in fact be his family, a descendent fated to help him find his destined path. He straightened up and regarded the ordinary man, a proud look crossed his face. "Perhaps."

The bartender shrugged. "In any case, seek yer fate, Ichabod Crane. Make us proud."

Ichabod firmly nodded and strode out the door, ready to seek his purpose.

* * *

 **Present Day**

The breeze gently sent ripples along the grass as the sun gave off its last rays of warmth, signaling the end of the day. Ichabod sat amidst the green patch with his legs crisscrossed, a joyful grin lighting his face. It slowly faded into a contemplative smile. A thought of a long ago, lonely Scottish bar came to mind as he proudly watched his baby daughter take her first unbalanced steps into the outstretched arms of her cooing mother.

That moment in the pub was the flame that reignited his will to find his purpose in life. It was what allowed him to realize where his heart resided the entire time. His heart, his treasure.

Abbie.

He sighed contentedly at her joyful smile as she scooped their baby up and hugged her tightly, peppering her round cheeks with kisses. This fiercely strong, gorgeous woman was his soulmate, his eternal love. He loved her more than what he deemed possible.

How she managed to take that love and divide it equally amongst them and their three children was a feat beyond his comprehension. His heart now belonged to all four of his lovely girls. And, god willing, it would soon belong to another Crane child.

He could almost perceive the round protrusion beneath his wife's shirt, though she would say it was too early for her to be showing. Nevertheless, his heart and stomach flipped in anticipation. Another Crane. What a notion? These blessings he'd been bestowed were not even a glimmer in his eye ten years ago.

Once the tribulations had ended, the end of the world came with it. They were powerless to stop it. It was as the bible foretold. They fought bravely, losing their loved ones in the process, Jenny, Corbin, Abbie's father, everyone. They watched them fall one by one in the final battle against evil. It was an epic battle that led to their own imminent deaths.

However, it was not the end.

They arose to a world destroyed, as young as the day they met, evil obliterated, and very few survivors in their midst. They rebuilt their lives from nothing, adopting survivors into their fold. Fortunately, the only souls they came across were worthy of their efforts. The world had ended yet hope had not been extinguished.

The playful giggles of their twins drew closer behind him, pulling him from his thoughts. One embraced his neck from behind, burying her small face in his long hair. The other tumbled into his lap with a rambunctious giggle. He pulled them into his arms, playfully growling into their warms necks, their curls tickling his cheeks. "No, papa, no!" They yelped and laughed as they squirmed from his arms and continued their playing.

He smiled widely as he looked after his daughters. He lovingly turned his gaze to Abbie holding the chubby hands of their baby as the tiny child determinedly continued to walk with purpose, as if demanding to take part in her sisters' play on the grass though her knees wobbled to find balance.

"This one's as stubborn as you, Ichabod," Abbie called out as she continued walking with her daughter.

He grinned playfully. "Are you certain that is not an inherited trait from her mother?" He unfolded from his seated position and began crawling toward his infant daughter.

"Nope, all you. I'm fairly certain she widened her eyes and held up her finger at me this morning when I tried to feed her that flavorless oatmeal you made for breakfast."

He paused in the middle of his crawl and looked up at her with a slighted expression. "Flavorless? I'll have you know, I sweetened it with honey and a dash of milk."

Abbie smirked knowingly at him before she looked down at her daughter clinging to her hands. "You like your papa's oatmeal, baby girl?"

The baby immediately responded with the word she used to reply to most questions as of late, "Nuh."

Abbie looked up with a knowing smirk. Ichabod narrowed his eyes at his daughter, he slowly crawled toward her. "You take that back."

She smiled and repeated it vehemently, "Nuh!"

He raised his eyebrow at her challengingly. "Insubordination, hmm? Such comportment shall earn you a merciless tickle to the tummy."

He quickly closed the distance between them and buried his face in her tiny, round stomach, supporting her tiny back with his large hands.

"Da-da!" she giggled delightfully, pulling her hands from Abbie's grasp to cling to his long hair.

He carefully laid her tiny body down on the grass as he continued his attack. Abbie giggled against her knuckles as she watched. This was one of those perfect moments she'd never expected to witness, a possibility that should have died with them.

She and Ichabod had expected to meet their end when they discovered their powers. It signaled the resurgence of the tribulations they'd believed were over. Fate, however, had other plans.

When the end of the world came, everything she feared came true. Everyone died. Jenny, Corbin, her father, none of them stood a chance, including them. They fought that unimaginable evil to their last, dying, breath. Then the impossible happened.

They came back to life, Lazarus-style.

When they woke up to this new world, void of the evil that had brought their demise, it had taken her time to adjust to it all. It was a world without Jenny. It was a world without any modern conveniences. It was world ready to be completely rebuilt by two disoriented former Witnesses. Everything she had known was gone. It was a lot to process.

Luckily, Ichabod was there to pick her up from the seemingly permanent fetal position she'd put herself in. He opened her eyes to a world of possibilities with his passion and natural ability to adjust to a world similar to the one of his past. He reignited her hope.

They found other people, developed a better, more conscientious, fair, civilization, and became founders of this new nation. It took time but once they'd finally found some semblance of stability, they immediately got to work on repopulating the earth.

Unsurprisingly, and thanks to their insatiable, youthful appetites, their first try resulted in twin girls, Jenny and Lori. After that child birthing experience, she didn't let Ichabod touch her for a good five months. Thanks to the conscientious populating movement, a natural form of birth control for both men and women was soon developed. Needless to say, Ichabod was the first in line.

Four years later, little Asha Crane was born. And now, not even a year later, Abbie was expecting Crane baby number four. If she didn't know any better she'd think the effectiveness of that birth control was wearing off. Then again, she and Ichabod had been going at it like rabbits lately.

She blamed it on his hair. It reminded her too much of those years that she'd pretended to not be attracted to him. She had to make up for lost time.

Besides, she'd be lying if she didn't say she was ecstatic about another baby. Secretly, she was dying to have a big family, the complete opposite of what she had growing up. She wanted her babies to have lots of siblings, lots of love, and never feel alone like she and Ichabod had felt growing up.

Which explained why her heart felt so full at seeing her baby girl giggling away with her papa. Their babies would always be loved, cared for, and never alone. It was everything she could have hoped for, everything she could have ever dreamed.

Although, after a few moments, the little girl's laughter faded as she batted her father away. She flipped over on her tummy, ready to crawl after the butterfly that had just caught her attention.

Ichabod sat back on his knees with a pout on his face, watching their baby explore the nature around her. "We used to do that for hours," he said forlornly.

"Yeah, well, that's the thing about growing up. Tummy tickles can only hold your attention for so long." She consolingly patted his shoulder.

He sighed, leaning his head against her hip. "They are growing up far too fast."

"Yeah, they are. But I guess that's kind of the point."

"I suppose." He turned to his wife, resting his hands on her ass as he raised up to kiss her stomach. "Fortunately, they are easily replaceable."

She scoffed, looking down at him. "Easily replaceable? Do you want me to smack you upside the head?"

He chuckled as he contentedly rest his cheek against her. "Pardon, I meant a pleasure to conceive." He glanced up at her and waggled his eyebrows.

She shoved him to the ground playfully. He laughed as she slowly lowered herself to the ground next to him. "I can't with you," she mumbled in amusement, reaching out her hand to pull him upright.

He sat up and extended his legs out in front of him, flipping his hair with flourish. "I beg to differ. You most certainly can. Several times, in fact. At night, this morning, oh, and a few times in public with a captive audience."

She wrapped herself around his arm and snuggled against his shoulder. "Those times were all your fault. You were supposed to lock the door."

"As you recall, my hands were full at the time." He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, there better not be any mention of how the founders of this nation liked to get nasty on top of the same table they wrote this country's constitution."

He raised his eyebrow mischievously. "Wouldn't that be a tale worth telling?"

She looked up at him doubtfully. "If George and Martha Washington kept their down and dirty business out of the history books then ours will be, too."

"Oh, but that double jug demands odes to be written in its honor," his hands began to wave dramatically, "monuments must be erected in its glory, laws must be..."

She smacked his arm. "Imma gonna beat _your_ ass if you don't stop."

Ichabod laughed. He gleefully pulled her into his lap, extending his long legs around her as she relaxed into his embrace and laid her head against his chest. They sighed contentedly.

Every moment had led to this. The reason he had emerged from a time in which no luxury or convenience now made perfect sense. It was his knowledge of history and founding a country – built upon Abbie's intelligence on various aspects of law and survival – that allowed them the ability to rebuild their society from its foundations. It had taken years of hard work but their efforts had not been in vain. Ichabod Crane and Abbie Mills-Crane were two of several proud founders of this promising country.

He pulled her against him, resting his lips against her dark, curly hair. They gazed out at their happy children, at their home they built, and the nation they had founded.

"Did you ever imagine this happening?" she asked abruptly.

"Hmm?"

"Us? This? Them?" she said, looking out at their precious little girls.

He inhaled deeply gazing out at his family and home. "Never," he mumbled against her hair.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. She thought she was the only one but she wanted to hear his reasoning. When he remained silent, she glanced up at him twisting her head toward him. "I'm gonna need you to elaborate."

He chuckled quietly and glanced down. "I never imagined it because this surpassed every expectation. A life with you by my side, with our children," he paused as he took a breath, "this life, our life, was a complete and utter blindside."

Satisfied with his answer, she rested back against him, thoughts of the past passing through her mind. How a modern Sleepy Hollow cop and a soldier from the Revolutionary War ended up together was beyond her. Though, she wouldn't have traded a single moment of any of it for anything.

She sighed. "Yeah, it was, wasn't it?"

He gently smiled. "Indubitably."

They relaxed for a moment, entwining their hands, enjoying the exquisite sun shining upon their skin, the breeze running through their hair. It was a beautiful day. It was a perfect day and life was good.

"Crane?"

Smiling at her use of the name she now only used on rare occasion, he deepened his voice and replied teasingly, "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"I love you," she said affectionately, glancing up at him adoringly.

He smiled lovingly at his wife and partner. "And I you, treasure. Evermore. "

 **And they lived happily ever after. The end.**

* * *

 ** _Hello Ichabbie Fandom,_**

 ** _I read every single one of your reviews on my last chapter and it brought tears to my eyes. A bittersweet pain resided in my heart for the longest time. I was a mess after reading how much this story meant to you. I never sought anything more than to satisfy my own curiosity with this piece._**

 ** _You made me see it was much more than that. Your love brought me back and made me realize that you needed closure, too. I hope this epilogue gave you that._**

 ** _It breaks my heart to put a final ending to this lovely journey we've gone through but this is it for me. I've written everything I can for these two amazing characters. I am finally at peace with their true fate: they will forever live on through the inspired masterpieces this fandom produced and will continue to produce in their name. Screw canon. Abbie and Ichabod will live on forever through all of you._**

 ** _Thank you for your continued and treasured support. I love every single one of you. Bless you for giving me a chance. Bless you for all your kind words of support and encouragement. You will always hold a piece of my heart._**

 ** _I am eternally yours,_**

 ** _semul_**


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